Diary of Frederick Charles Krueger
by mysticwryter
Summary: A notebook of Kruegar's diary entries and what let up to his first victim. Please R&R. Rated M for a reason, lots of sexual content, language and gore.
1. Chapter 1

**Ok I saw that one of the viewers wants to see a diary form type of story from Freddy when he was younger. I tried to do some background information of some parts, basically from nightmare 6; Freddy's Dead. I really don't know how to begin this really. I don't want it to be drawn out and seem rather boring. I've thought about this idea for about 2 weeks now and decided to give it a try. This isn't perfect since we know so little about Freddy when he was younger. So...what I'll do is just start it off with just a few journal/diary entries that Freddy may possibly would put in this. I'm going to start this off rather differently. We all know Freddy was a craze maniac and everything. We know that somehow dream demons were apart of his insanity. What if Freddy was never like what he became? What if these dream demons were with him this whole time, only it was voices in his head? BTW...thank you for your info on Tattoo. I'm really glad you enjoyed it. But this is going to be a long project so I hope to get more started soon. So..here ya go. **

**You think you know, but you still have no idea. This is the Diary of Frederick Charles Krueger.**

Dear Diary, September 13, 1967

I got another shiner from fake-dad today. For some odd reason he thought I was drinking his Wild Turkey (which I was. It was the only way to numb the pain) and thought to give me a dose of my own medicine. He dragged me down the stairs into that dweary darkness that he calls my bedroom. He threw me onto the cold concrete. If only I had friends who knew and understood my feelings as I sat on that floor. With his leather belt he slashed across my back, my legs and my arms. He hit my face; felt like bricks hitting my bones. I winced at the pain and cried aloud. I asked him to stop but with that Turkey on his breath and his mind in a fog, he never heard my screams. I try to think of my mother, so that the pain is bearable at the least. I feel that this notebook, full of wonderless dreams and thoughts will not be able to console me any longer. I want to go home. I want to be with my mother. I want to know if she's ok wherever she is. I want to have her embrace me, tell me that there's no reason to stay with fake-dad. I want my mother. I want to smell her clothes, feel her soft hand grace my face and wipe my tears. I want to hear her say "I love you, Fred." The only thing I do hear is the voices in my head, aruging back and forth. I tell them to stop yelling. Leave me alone. But they never do. I want to escape. But these voices, like fake-dad, don't listen. They keep badgering, tell me things that I shouldn't do. _It's evil_ I tell them _I don't want to hurt anyone_. They only laugh and snicker. "_You are nothing Freddy. A piece-of-shit that your daddy puts down here. A mindless little thing. Your mommy was fucked by many men, heaving and gasping a-top of her. They found solice in raping her, tearing her inside as well out. She was ravaged with those dicks they played with so much in a corner, collecting cum to form a little mountain. When that door closed, they knew what they were doing. It was a sense of clairty. They were not crazy for what they done. What they did brought them to life._" Why am I cursed with voices in my head, telling me dirty thoughts of ravaging someone, what it feels to rip skin with bare hands? I do not want to hear this. I must go to confession on Monday. I'm about to go out of my mind with this. Brother Carl must hear these thoughts so that I may be purged of these sins and see my mother again.

Dear Diary September 16,1967

I don't know how long I can take it. Fake-dad can't stand me anymore. Every time I see that bottle of booze by the couch, I dread the worse. Everyday I got to school, hear them calling me names, the Son of A Hundred Maniacs, the scum, the fool, the pussy. I thought that when that clock struck 3:00, I was safe, homeward bound. Only from the minds of other kids who come home to a warm house, loving parents and supper being made on the stove. Me? I come home and find my foster father, lounging on the couch, with one hand on Wild Turkey and the other down his pants. No supper on the stove, no warm home with smells of clove and lemon. When I come home, I smell the whiskey from my father's breath and smoke from his cigarettes. The smell burns my nostrils and makes my eyes water. Is this what home really is now? For being only 15, I guess that this is . A bastard son living with a broken man who's only solace is in a bottle. This isn't a home. This is torture, prison or whatever comes to mind where you don't want to be left alone. I went to confession today. Brother Carl wasn't in for he was on a mission in Belize. I wish I can leave Springwood and go do some good in the world. Like a blister, I fester in one spot and stay. Brother Jacob heard my confession. When I told him of these voices, what they tell me and want me to do he gasped. I told him everything, down to the last detail.

"God Above, you make the Devil righteous with your impure thoughts. Why must you think these things Frederick? God loves you and only wants you to be pure, to be self-righteous. You have to cast these thoughts away, child or it will bring Satan onto your soul. Say Three Hail Mary's, 4 Our Fathers, and 2 prayers for me and Brother Carl on mission. God protect you, Frederick, for His light shall shine."

As I crossed myself, I doubt if I'll ever see the light of God shine within me. I've given up, in a way. I want to keep the holy trinity of life in me and in my heart, but as I see it, there's nothing that God has on me. He forsakes his son for my freedom, I doubt. If so, why would he create in order to destroy? The facts of Life? HA! What seems to be more of story book fiction that of actual life. This man we call Jesus, God's son, died on that cross, bared the wounds and saw the blood trail from his hands and feet. He has nothing on me. He doesn't have to go through the same pain every day, feel the wounds heal and then rupture. No more cracked ribs, no torn muscles. He's dead and has to feel nothing. I wish I was dead sometimes. May I wouldn't feel this way. Maybe I wouldn't show up to confession to purge these voices.

They are back. I can't write no more.

Dear Diary, September 22, 1967.

I didn't realize how hard it is to breathe now. I almost passed out in Algebra today. I was sitting in class, not minding the spit wads hitting the side of my head from Bobby Fletcher and staring out at the playground. There were little tykes, maybe 7 or 8 and they were giggling, playing on the swing set, sliding down the slide. A couple of girls were playing jump rope and singing songs. They were laughing. I forgot how to. I haven't laughed for along time. I feel like crud on the bottom of a work boot, sticking in the crevice of the print. As I starred out beyond the playground and into the blue sky that shined, I reflected on my life at this point. Given, it's been only a few years since I began to write fluently in these notebooks, more in the past year. As the day wears on and I get older, I become less human. I don't ever talk much anymore. I have no friends. Ha, I forgot what friends are actually for. Where I almost got to the point where everything goes blank a singe of pain hit my left side. I stopped breathing. At the time I didn't feel any pain, it was more of a relief. That for once I didn't have to depend on inhaling oxygen, I didn't need to worry about being here. It...felt...amazing. I found myself in the nurses station though with ice on my side. They found me on the floor. I did stand up gasp and then just feel like a ton of bricks onto the linoleum. A doctor came and found I had 2 broken rips and 3 cracked ones. When he asked me what happened, I said that my fake-dad threw me down the stairs again and kicked me several times. My lips quiver with the thought of being able to say it but I just lied through my teeth and said I fell off of my bike onto the sidewalk. I told him I would take some aspirin when I get home. I just realize I'm a very good liar. What does that mean? I lie about everything to everyone. I tell them when I had a shiner, I told them I was kicked by a horse. When I had my broken arm, I told them I feel out of a tree. If I really told them that my fake-dad did this in his drunken rage, they wouldn't believe me.

_Why would it matter, Fred. Even the priest thinks you're a fucking loony. You know that Brother Carl wasn't on a mission. You knew where he was. You saw it plain as day just as we did. We saw his car parked down by an abandoned building with neon lights still flashing "Girls. Girls. Girls." We all went to check it out and saw your priest in full grande with his pants down to his ankles, getting spanked by that whore. God, she has some big tits, I would have loved to lived in her head and feel my way down south. _

Fucking stop it. I've had it with you guys. That's it, I'm finding another way to take care of this.

Dear Diary, October 12, 1967

I found another way. I'm sorry that it has been a while since I've last written. I've discovered something amazing. It help keep them quiet! At long last I found something to keep them quiet. Not a lot of people know this or even know it's a growing fad. The other day I was in the bathroom, trying to figure out if I wanted to stay home or go to school. I really didn't want to go to either places. Before I left I found my dad's razor on the floor. Looks like he dropped it when he was so blistering drunk, trying to shave. I picked it up and it cut me. I watched the blood balloon in the cut then rise to the surface. For some odd reason, it interest me. I grabbed the razor again and held out my forearm and lightly pressed. I saw the blade indent my skin and just sat there. I applied more pressure and felt the sting and surge of pain then then POP it cut into my skin. There was a lot of blood but I found it rather appealing to me. It fascinated me. I felt a sense of calm when I pulled the blade across. It hurt but it was more of a cool sensation. I stopped and tried to hear anything but for once. Nothing. At last, I found peace in doing this to myself. Letting me cut myself takes care of the stupid voices. The pain of being in that dreaded basement. I found my way out. It got a little messy in the bathroom so I found some old band-aids and put them on my skin. I can always use the excuse of cutting the hedges and the thorns from the weeds cut me. This is my absolution; the cure for my voices. If only I could do this everyday. Or could I?

Diary Oct. 24, 1967.

The feeling of that blade go across skin is amazing. I am more tolerable with my pain now. When ever that thing upstairs comes down with a boner protruding his pants and the empty whiskey bottle in his hand, I don't think about the pain. I don't feel the pain. Somehow it feels good. One night while the man was passed out drunk, I snuck upstairs and grabbed his leather belt. I hurriedly ran downstairs and sat on my bed. There were some Playboy magazines that I stole from the old man but they were nothing too new. Even some of the pages were sticky from us coming all over it while orgasm. I pulled the Playboy open and sat there and stared at the bare breast girls, showing their labias and inner workings with their fingers. Since I was feeling rather horny, I wanted to incorporate the idea of pain and pleasure. I tied the belt around my neck very tightly. I went to my closet door and shut the long piece of leather so when I went forward it would hold and I would begin to choke. I pulled my pants down and underwear and grabbed the magazine. I stood there leaning forward as the belt tightened around my neck, cutting circulation of blood to my head. My hand rubbing my dick up and down faster and faster, I stared at these girls, imagining I'm licking them down with my tongue, making them scream in ecstasy. I imagined myself fucking them watching my dick get wet with juices from within them. I focused harder on it. I tried to tell myself before that this was a sin to spill your seed but I didn't give a damn what I thought about it. I wanted to get off and the only way possible was to imagine. Rubbing myself up and down. I felt the fire beginning in my legs and travel to my lower stomach. The tightening urge made me go faster. I leaned further forward, not able to breathe. I still kept my eyes closed as I still fantasized these women on top of me, sucking me off, screaming for more; screaming my name. At long last I felt the cool chill elope me and I opened my eyes as I saw my cum stretch onto the steel floor. The sensation was remarkable as I stifled a grunt and moan. I never had that happen to me before. The sensation was so beautiful that I kept doing it, rubbing faster and licking my hand to create less friction. I kept coming and felt myself still engorged on the fact that I was choking myself. I didn't want it to stop. I gasped for air and felt my self give in under the lack of oxygen. I fell upon the hard door, feeling the blood rush to my head. I guess that's what it feels like when you take drugs.

After that unimaginable high, I felt the pain again. I started to feel horrible that I spilled myself over the floor. That I looked at dirty pictures of girls. I let Satan take over me. But I didn't feel the reason to go to confession. The more I thought about it, the less I cared of what I did. It didn't matter anymore. I felt good and jacking-off was the only way to do so. I didn't commit sin, I committed something more. Something that only a few could understand. This wasn't a sin; this was a lesson. A teacher, perhaps; to show me how to control my pain, stop feeling it and maybe use it. And Diary, I found, for the first time in a long while...I was smiling. I found my new way of pleasure and pain. And I couldn't get enough of it. I did it over and over again until my dick was raw and I couldn't come anymore. I walked back up to the kitchen and placed his belt back on the dinner table. I turned toward the living room and I could see his head. I walked over and peered down on him. The empty bottle was half out of his hand and he was snoring quietly. At that moment I came to a sense of clarity. I must have stayed there for several minutes, but the voice were talking to me, not yelling._ Freddy. Do you realize what you could do now? You don't have to go through so much pain anymore. It just takes one time and only a minute to stop the pain. Your bruises would heal, your bones would mend. "How do I do it?" I asked them_

_Kill him. Feel that sensation when you were cutting yourself only amplified. You jerking off with a belt loop around your neck only begins what pleasure is in store with just doing this one thing. When you take a life, Freddy, feeling it escape within your hands, your come inside yourself. The oblivious feeling of unreasonable desire fills your veins and it gives you that high. It's a joyous feeling to experience. If you would like I could help-_

"No," I whispered harshly at the voice, "It's not time. Soon though once I find the right moment."

_"That's the Freddy we know". _

**Ok..that's just a first part...This is a one-shot thing but it will be broken into many parts. Let me know what you think. I will be continuing this soon.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Alright. I went through and got another chapter of a few more diary entries. Thanks to Darkness Takes Over for clarifying some information. unfortunatly I do have the dates wrong but I'm going to try and correct it. I'm sorry if ****all of the other older Freddy fans who are reading this and are a little confused. The dates should be of around 1950 ish and I'm about 20 years later. I'm going to make the corrections in this chapter. And again, I'm sorry for the confusion. I'm going to take this to a rather different avenue. THIS CHAPTER IS VERY GRAPHIC AND GRUESOME. SOME OF IT IS RATHER SENSITIVE TO SOME PEOPLE. We all know what Freddy was. He was a child murderer and molester. Wes Craven said it himself he wanted to have a Child molester/killer for NOES, but with the controversy going on in 1983/84 with an acutal pedophile that was making headlines and on the nightly news. He decided to not include that and just make Freddy a ****child killer. FOR THOSE WHO ARE EASILY OFFENDED OR ANYTHING PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER. IT CONTAINS A SLIGHT DIVE INTO THE MIND OF A CHILD KILLER. I'm going to try and see what I can do on the regards of Wes' original idea for Freddy.**

**************** ****I'LL SAY IT AGAIN. THIS CHAPTER IS VERY GRAPHIC AND IF YOU ARE A SENSITVE NATURE READER, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED TWICE NOW. ****************

Dear Diary,

October 25, 1956

I did it. I did it. I did it. I took it all down with a swallow and I felt more alive. There's no more pain, because it was inflicted on him. Watching him, stomping down the stairs calling my name, "Freddy! Freddy! Are you ready for it boy? You have been a waste since the day I took you in. Now it's time to take your medicine". I sat there feeling the cold blade hit my skin as I chuckled. I loved how that blade felt across skin. Almost like silk paper, so beautiful but with just enough pressure, it breaks so delicately. He was still screaming my name trying to find his footing down the wooden stairs. I stood up and turned to him, putting my shirt down over my stomach. He had that damn hat across his eyes and that leather belt gripped tightly in his hands. He slapped the fat part on his left hand, trying to strike fear in my eyes. It only fueled my creativity.

He took his stance and let the belt fall back, ready to strike. He hit my back, right to left, right to left, and all I could do was laugh. You see, in my mind I already figured out the perfect plan and time to get him. I was like Jack the Ripper plotting revenge against the 5 who betrayed him. Every movement was timed, positioned and carried out so quietly even the whores didn't see it coming when they were drunk off of Absinthe laced with Laudunm. As he carried on he suddently stopped.

"Thank you sir, may I have another?" I asked him, seeing the rage building in his bloodshot eyes. He was hitting me again, grunting this time, trying to put all the effort he had within his weak arms. Well, they were weak to me. I grabbed his arms and saw his drunk mind go sober and the terrifying look in his eyes as I looked at him.

"You wanna know the secret of pain?" I asked him, "if you just stop feeling, it you can start to use it." I flared the blade into his face and watched his pupil retract in horror. The blood was still on there, very thinly just enough to see that I had a plan of my own to win at his own game.

I sliced his cheek open and watched it swell with red esscense. He reached for his face and wiped away the blood and shuffled back from me in fear. I walked forward and begin to feel the independence of not having to worry about him hurting me, never hitting me across my back. I backed him into the closet door, my sanctuary of endless wonder of death, and sank the razor blade into his side.

"What the hell do you think you are doing boy?" he asked as he raised his hand, gripping the belt, ready to strike me again. There was no point, diary. I laughed in his face. I remember like it just happened a minute ago but it's been over a year now.

"You know, old man, I'm very tired of you battering me to where I have to make excuses for your wrong doings. When I was young, I was weak as you always said. I'm stronger now. Your pathetic whips of discipline only fuel my desire to end it once and for all. This is for you...dad. It's time to take _your_ medicine. It's long over due."

I grabbed his hand and drew the blade across his neck. It felt like a hot knife going into butter. So clean. The blood splattered from his wound as he tried to breathe and scream. It sprayed onto my face. It was a refreshing reminder to me that it was finally over. He fell upon his knees, grabbing his throat trying to contain the blood which sprayed out faster as he heart raced. Soon, his hand fell and he stared at me. He looked at me and for some odd reason, it was if he was trying to say I'm sorry. I just looked down onto him, and quietly said my final words: "Do unto others as they do unto you." And I hear his last faint breath before he fell upon the cold floor. I kicked him several times in the ribs, feeilng them crack and break against my foot. It was liberating. I took his arm and broke his wrist and shoved his elbow inward with the palm of my hand. Did you know it only takes 8 pounds of pressure to dislocate an elbow? I didn't know how easy it was to do! I mean it was just POP and there it was the join on the inside wall of his inner arm. It looked like a tumor or a round ball. I chuckled and I played around with it. I did the same thing to his other elbow; POP, and there it was the ball of bone protruding his leather-like skin.

With me having my fun I forgot to realize that I was in a basement; how was I to get him out of here? I found that the storm shelter doors were just on the other side of the stairwell. I dragged his body, leaving a thick trail of blood behind his head. I figure that there would be a mess but I really didn't expect it to be so much blood. AllI could remember was me shaking my head and smiling.

"Thanks, fuck head. Even in death, I still have to clean up after you." I finally got his body up the stone stairs into the backyard. Luckily it was nighttime and no one could see me even if I made all the noise in the world. I grabbed a axe, a plastic tarp and a shovel. I knew that it was going to be a long project trying to figure out how to get rid of him. I must have stared at his stone dead eyes for about 10 minutes, trying to figure out a way to get rid of him. The I thought, the refinery on the south end of town. They have an oven. Creamation would be great; no one would ever find him. I grabbed the axe and laid my first strike on his head, it rolled onto its side, rocking gently back and forth until it was still. The I went after his arms and his legs. I cut the tarp and rolled his pieces and then into a black bag. I finally got the abilty to pull the bag over my shoulders. I went out to the truck and threw him into the bed. I started the engine, hearing it turn over and then began my final trip with my fake-dad.

I arrived at the factory and saw the smoke rising from the chimney, the final resting place for him. dragged his mangled bag o parts into the boiler room. I opened the steel hinge, hearing it squeak a little. I ripped the bag open and then placed the pieces in there, one by one. I tossed them in, hearing them hit the back of the incenerator. Watching the plastic melt and catch fire. Seeing the pale skin turn red then black, waching the hairs wither and spark with flame. I stared into that buring grave and finally felt peace within my head. But with everything else. I knew that it wouldn't last. The voices were right. Until I feel life leave from my actions, I will know the feeling of playing God and I didn't want to stop. As the final pieces were wilting and falling apart, I closed the door and left the room. I got back into the truck and went home. I must have stayed down in the basement for about 3 hours, bleaching the floor, scrubbing the grout to remove the stain of red. At long last I finally was done. Nothing was left behind. I fell upon my bed and sighed at long last I didn't have to live in fear. I could be taht fear that sticks in the mind of others. I finally slept good for once in my 16 years of life.

Dear Diary,

March.1958

Today wil be my last entry unto this notebook. It's so tattered as I've held onto it for so long. It held my secrets, my fears and finally my attempt at freedom. I don't think I've ever felt so liberated, so free. Unfortunatly, since fake-dad didn't come "home" after 3 months even with a police search, I cannot stay here. It feels rather weird that I get to leave but for some odd reason, it still call it home. It's all I know. This basement, my bed, it all reminds me of my pain, but quite honestly it's all I know. The voices have stopped for some reason, I haven't heard them since Fake-dad went "missing". Ha ha, missing. Get it?

Since I'm not a grown man and the standing age of eighteen, I think I need to figure out my life. I have no one to keep me back and I feel like a new person. Speaking of new person, I met a girl today. I met her at the diner one night. I just got back from working at the factory (yeah, got a job at the same factory too.) It was a very late night and hardly any one was in the diner. I just sat there sipping my coffee when it began to rain. Just sheets of water falling fast onto the ground. I saw someone running toward the entrance of the diner in a blurry shadow. The bells of the door chimed, as it opened forcefully and the figure stood in a brown coat. I figured it was a girl from looking at her shoes, high small heels with a black matte color. She pulled off the hood of her coat and blotted the rain that hit her face. I could only see her from one side, but her jaw line was flawless. She pulled sandy blonde hair behind her ears, reavealing 2 small earrings within her earlobes, diamonds sparking with the touch of water. She started to come my direction, and found a booth just diagonally from me. I tried not to make such a obvious glare at her. For some odd reason I couldn't stop looking into her green eyes. Emerald sheen with a tint of gold. When I felt her looking over as she took her drenched coat off, I stared into my cup of coffee, watching my face mirroring in the blackness. I sipped carefully and thought of something dashing and charming. The only thing I could muster was a sneeze and a loud ACHOO!

"Bless you." she said and smiled. I reached for my rag, that was dangling outside my back jean pocket and blotted my nose. I nodded my head in thanks and I sniffled, clearing my airway. She looked back at the waitress and asked for a phone she could use. How angelic she sounded when she asked, and so polite. I felt my heart flutter as she got up and walked away. I knew I would have to see her again, really know who she is. I need to know her name. I saw she left her purse within the corner of the booth. So, I grabbed it and caught her attention as I tried to walk carefully toward her, in which I failed because I almost tripped over my own feet. Fuckin' A!

"Here. Don't forget this." I reached my arm out and presented her leather purse.

"Thank you so much. If I lost this I don't know where I would start." She smiled at me. Her teeth so perfect and pristine. As if God granted a gift of such purity within one's mouth. She kindly reached out and grabbed her purse, sliding it up her thin shoulder

"I'm Fred, by the way." I extended my hand out to her. She smiled and looked down at my hand. She didn't move her hands from her purse, and smiled. She walked away toward the door.

"Hey! I didn't catch your name." I said to her as she put her hand on the door to leave

"That's because I didn't throw it," she said as she lifted her head.

I felt like an ass and just started to walk away.

"Good to see you Fred. I'm Loretta. Maybe I'll see you around." She pushed the door and walked back into the rain to a car waiting outside the entrance.

I wonder if I was going to see her again. I watched the car drive away, kicking water behind the tires. I hope she's at the diner tonight.

Dear Diary March 1958

I must have waited for 6 hours for her to come through that door. I must have drank 12 cups of coffee, just hoping if she would come through that door and smile at me again. But no, as fucking always there's nothing for poor old Freddy. I laid my money ont he table and stormed out of the diner, leaving the waitress rather startled. Why is it whenever I want to be able to try something new, that oppertunity never comes through. I was so pissed off that the little cunt didn't come by to see me. I figured her for a flake anyways. As I was walking home, I found a little swingset that sat across the street from an elementary school. I sat in the swing and watched the sky change hues of color from navy blue, to purple, pink orange and then saw the sun peaking up from the horizon. I didn't know why I felt so sad. Usually I'm an angry person, as you and I both know, but I jsut felt the urge of sorrow. Like I lost my mom again. I felt the tears start to well in my eyes and for some odd reason I couldn't stop. The tears turned into silent sobs as I sat there still swinging gently back and forth. I wanted to go home, so I got up and left. I felt so cold walking home, like I wasn't myself. When I reached my front door it was already 7:30. I saw the children starting to arrive at the bus stop on the corner of Elm St. and Hickory. I sat at the bottom stair of my walkway and just stared at them. They were smiling, giggling and playing around. I chuckled and gave a half smile. Even being an adult, I wished I could be a child still. Feel no weight upon my young shoulders and just enjoy playing on the playground with my friends. Unfortunatly, it was only a distant dream that just kept being ripped from my grasp. I heard the scruffling of shoes coming down the sidewalk and saw it was a small girl in a blue dress. Her blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail. She was skipping down the sidewalk with her backpack hopping on her back. When I saw her, I felt a strange feeling. I felt the voices started up in my head. They were whispering.

_"Mmm...she looks so sweet. I wonder how she tastes. Hey Freddy, can you see her panties. Are they white or do they have little polka-dots on them?" _

I tried so hard to keep the voices at bay, I had to be good so I can start my new life. I couldn't go back and revert all over again. But something in my head stared at the girl as she skipped down the sidewalk. Her dress came up to her mid thighs and I felt the heat again. Like when I was choking myself. The heat turned into a tickle that just found to be between my legs. I looked down and saw that my dick was hard again. I was shocked immediatly, as if some beautiful woman walked by, with breasts so large and a dress so tight you could see her outline of her slim body. But I just kept looking at that girl, and biting my lip as I tried to contain my urges.

"_Isn't she something?" "Yeah, I would love to get betwen those sweet legs and taste her rainbow."_ They kept talking about it and I felt myself even more aroused as she walked by. I couldn't take it, I ran into the house slamming the door. I went to the kitchen and grabbed the kitchen knife. I made a bee line to the bathroom, closing the door with a loud thud. I tore my pants from my waist and threw them into the bathtub along with my underwear. And there it was. My erection starting at me. I held the knife so firm in my hands and thought of only one thing. Cut it away.

I put the blade on the shaft close to my abdomen. I felt the the sharp edge as it rested, waiting for me to execute. But I didn't find myself appling any pressure. My left hand started to stroke. Slow at first, pinching at the head. My eyes rolled in the back of my head and I couldn't find any means to stop. I released the pressure of the knife and put it in the sink. I licked my palms and began what I thought was something only the voices in my head wanted me to do. Diary it's too horrible to describe to you what I was looking at. My emotions were flying in every direction; this is bad but it feels too good. Why are you thinking such a thought, but it only makes me want more. I wanted more. I wanted that little girl.

It seemed forever when I came out of the bathroom, wiping my hands with tissue with my pants back on me. I sat on the couch and just stared into the fireplace. It was cold and black, somehow I felt the same way. It was so confusing as to why I did what I just did. Why was it more of a glorious feeling rather than a horrible thought? I sat there and thought of ways to come around it. But I always came back to the same thing. Because I wanted to feel her on me. I wanted to feel her innocence be broken like it was mine so I can finally see that I wasn't alone. The thought of her blue dress came back into my head and I felt the warm tickle again. Oh, God, it's coming back. Just even writing in this journal, my pants are about to rip from my boner. I can't do this right now. I need to get out of the house.


	3. Chapter 3

**Finally! Ya know, after writing this I can't stop but you know reality starts to kick in and pulls you away from your fantasies and sense of creativity. I have been working non-stop for the past couple of weeks that when a weekend does approach, it's catch-up-on-sleep day and clean-up-the-house day. Then the week starts over again. On top of that with the delay in cleaning my own home, I got sick for the first time in 2 years. I don't know what it was really, but I'm better now. Since I do have the time from all that crap, I'm gonna have this chapter be a little more...softer, in a way. Give it a break from the horror we all know and love of Freddy. BTW...I want to personally thank Lightning-Blue-Eyes for accepting my friend request on Facebook! :D. Now, that I can talk to you directly, I can get some other ideas with co-write, I don't know. But since it's been a while since I wrote and I know some of you like this idea (Darkness Takes Over, and Buffy Krueger), this chapter will be a little longer. **

**Keep dreaming and without further a due...**

April 15, 1958

I know I said something about not writing in this filthy thing but you know, it's rather relaxing to me to figure out my battles and fights through here. No, I didn't get a chance to see Loretta but I did have a dream about her. We were sitting on a park bench watching the sun start to set. I remember holding her hand; so soft and gentle. Her skin reminded me of soft velvet and I felt her bones in her hands as she flexed her hand as she wrapped her fingers around mine. I smelled sandalwood and lavender from her perfume and it wasn't overbearing, just enough for a scent. She smiled at me with golden emerald eyes and I knew that she was falling in love. The glaze of water over her irises, almost a drunken feeling of lust. I could hear her talking but I couldn't make a sense of it. I just kept looking into her eyes; I was in a trance. I looked up at her and saw her began to fade, and she said my name so faintly, "...fred...", then I felt her hand disappear in my grasp. I looked up and saw that little girl again. She was smiling and giggling, "Play with me," she said and I saw her skirt ride up on her small thighs. I knew that this was trouble. I fought the urge but I still saw my hand reach between her legs as she opened them freely. I screamed and woke up. Sweat was drenched into my t-shirt. I gasped for air and came to my senses. I calmed myself and found yet again the devil staring at me between my legs. I just turned over and just laid there, hoping for a dream-less sleep.

Why is it that I can't get over that little girl? It's like a witch put a spell on me and when see a child, I get a woody. The funny thing is, I don't feel the same way when I look at an older woman. She could be the finest looking woman, with everything a guy would ever want and I wouldn't even look at her. But when I see a child, just some random child, my eyes are set on her or even him. This rage builds up and its accompanied by this feeling. You know how when you see a naked girl before you and she looks at you with that look, and you know it's the right time to feel that sensation? That's what I feel when I walk by a playground, a bus stop, school, grocery store. The little girl or boy holding their parent's hand. I just want to grab them, play with them and them send them on their way. An addictive feeling, I could say. I can't get enough. Since that girl walked pass me on the sidewalk, she awakened something in me and I know it can't be killed.

May 18, 1958

I hate the sign of spring. It's warm during the day and then it's cold at night. Like Mother Nature can't make up her fucking mind. Working a graveyard shift at that factory and coming home around 6, is possibly the coldest moment of the day. The day has started but night doesn't want to end. Like a mixing of 2 climates hitting each other at the same time, producing a colder wind, frost or dew on the green plants, budding as summer slowly approaches. When I do get home I just stay there. I don't dare to go out anymore with the fear of losing my mind. Yes, the voices have returned again and yes they pressure me to try and walkout the front door when I make lunch or just to take a piss.

"_Why are you wasting this day? You do this every fucking time. One of these days I'm going to bug you enough to get your lazy-ass and enjoy the rapture of the outside, as well a few insides. We will nag you, haunt your dreams to the point where you blackout and we take over, fulfilling the desire and ecstasy of what you deny. Fuck what sin is. Sin is everywhere and you have already commited to it."_

_"_I found peace within myself and was able to forgive myself for what I did to Underwood. It was out of blind rage"

_"Blind rage? You call that blind rage? You know good and well that what you did, you had complete control over. We just watched from a far and admired you. Didn't you get a feeling of bliss when you sliced his neck, or watched his skin melt in the furnace? You can't tell me that was out of blind rage. You planned it, you carried it out; all on your own, with no help from us. Nothing can be forgiven for that. So think you're forgiveness is a way to deal with what you can..yet. One of these days, those urges will not be controlled. They will flow freely in your mind and you will start to like what you have done."_

I can't stand it anymore. I feel like taking a ice pick and jamming it into my skull just to shut them up. But in a way they are right. At night I do find myself toying with the idea of how I can do this. What would take place? How would I execute? Who would be my first? What would I do with my first? When I do think of it, I get that urge and that feeling starts to tickle my lower stomach and it goes into something else. I keep wondering if I'm crazy or if I'm just normal. But do 18-year-old men have sexual urges and fantasies about 7-8 year-old girls and boys?

Sometimes, I wish I can just evade those feelings, those sudden urges...but I can't. I hope that I can get through this.

May 1958

Ok...I gave in and decided to go to the diner. I really didn't think much of it plus I was starving from not making anything for lunch. I walked into the diner and sat at my usual spot. The waitress came by and I ordered my black coffee. When she turned away, I got the faint smell of lavender..and sandalwood. Loretta! I looked up from my menu and saw her behind the counter with her hair pulled back, chewing gum as she reached for the coffee cups. I felt my eyes widen at her presence. My head was setting off fireworks in her honor that I actually got to see her! I couldn't help but chuckle at the fact. She came back and placed my coffee on the table.

"Hi Loretta. Long time no see." I said to her. She looked at me strangly at first and then it came together.

"Hi Fred. How have you been?"

We just talked briefly about the weather, changing seasons and how things were going on in our lives. I kept all the bad thoughts from interrupting my train of thought as I told her my past few months. I finally ordered my dinner and she wrote it down fast, with long strokes. She looked so determined as she wrote my order down, as if not to have the cook mess it up. It was only the special which was the Porterhouse Steak with Baked Potato, Green Beans and homemade roll. She could put down "Special" but I knew she was more complex than that.

"I'll get that in and I'll be back." She continued to write as she walked away from me. She was so cute in her peach skirt uniform with white shoes. She almost looked like a nurse with the get up but the apron gave it away as it said "Roadkill Cafe" on the front. I felt a half smile on my face as I continued to sip my coffee. It didn't really seem all that long when she returned and sat across from me.

"Ya know, I keep forgetting to ask you but I remember it now. Thanks for my purse. I had some important notes in there I had to have before I went home. Being in college it just seems only adequate if I kept a notebook and pen in there."  
She told me she was a freshman at Springwood Community College, studying to be a journalist. I kinda put two and two together when she was ordering my dinner. She told me she grew up just outside of Springwood but she moved into town when she was 13. Her parents were re-located and her father started to work at the factory, the same one that I now work. I didn't realize how close I was to her. If I didn't screw around at home, I would have been able to see her out and about. She also told me that she was thinking about quitting college because she felt it wasn't getting her anywhere. She said when she wrote reports or essays she felt empty. She said it was like trying to fill up a person, capturing emotions, sight, sound, taste. How their hands felt when they rubbed dirt in between the ridges of their prints. I told her that with just that description, she could go and do so much with it. I told her to keep going with it, and make more of a hobby rather than an assignment. The more you work with what you have, the better you get at it. I loved how she smiled at me finally understanding what I was trying to say. She got up finally and went back to the order room, with my dinner in hand.

"Hey bobby! I'm taking my lunch break. Can you make me a grilled cheese and fries, please?" she asked out loud toward the back of the diner. I started to feel that I was actually on my first date..with a woman. I think I could get use to this.

We sat there, talked, ate and enjoyed each other's company. She talked a whole lot more than me. I just listed to stories when she was little, when she was in school. All I could do is just stare into her eyes and just admire how beautiful she was. It seemed only minutes since I had been talking to her, but it was for 2 hours.

"Well, I think I have to get back to work. Maybe you and I can talk again. Maybe somewhere else rather than my place of work," she said looking around her surroundings.

"You mean like a date?" I asked her, cautiously. I really didn't know how to ask a girl on a date; this fortunately was playing out like I wanted it to.

"Sure. A Date. How about Saturday Night? 7:00? bowling alley?"

"Ok. Bowling Alley it is, " I agreed.

She got up from the table and smiled as she grabbed the dishes in front of us. "Thanks for joining me for dinner. See you Saturday." She walked away with that confident stride you get when you have something go right.

I sighed a huge breath of anxiety. I got up, laid money on the table and strolled out of the diner. I walked in the morning dew and watched the water gather on my black boots. I looked around me and just observed the world before me. I kept thinking to myself, you know, Spring isn't all that bad. It's a season of growth.

June 1958

Oh my God. I really don't know how to go about this. It's more of a strange feeling and yet its comforting. For the past month I've been seeing Loretta, going out to the theatre, bowling, having dinner. It's so much fun. I don't think I've written for a couple weeks now. I'll tell you that girl can bowl. She made me out to be a fool on that alley. But when she would get ready to aim, her face was stone still, steady and absolutely in a trance. Her eyes were hard onto those pins, picking which ones would feel the hit of that 8 lb. ball. She would step cautiously with her right foot, picking up pace and then gracefully pulled her leg back in an arch, curling it under her left leg. The ball would spin and then turn right and catch the gap between the 1st and 3rd pin. POW! Strike. She would straighten up and spin around, gleaming her white teeth my way. I really didn't want to play bowling anymore. I just wanted to watch her, dancing up and down the alley, gracefully letting go of the ball and see her waiting impatiently for the impact of the pins. She would giggle at me when I would throw the ball down the gutter. Given, I was fuming on the inside but I had to be good in front of her. I didn't want her to know. Ever.

We must have played for hours as the minute hand circled around the numbers within the clock. We would go see movies, huddle in the darkness with the popcorn between us. She would scoot closer to me when we would watch scary movies. Her eyes would hide within my jacket, giving her shelter from the brief encounter of the antagonist. I would smile and smell her hair when she would dive below my chin. I closed my eyes and just enjoyed the moment until she moved her head back up to the screen. I would catch her at times while she was trapped in the movie. She looked so innocent, so pure. I felt a relief when she would look at me and smile or even say my name. An absolute joy would fill me. I would forget my past, the hurt, the thoughts and it was like starting anew. It didn't matter anymore.

One night when we came back from the movie, I walked her home to her apartment. A little quaint place on the corner of Mulberry with pots full of daisies and carnations. She would reach into her purse, and jingle her keys as she searched for the key in the moonlight or within the glow of the street lights. Such a beauty when the light played off her features of her jaw, her cheekbones. It was looking into the eyes of the Holy Mother. A sense of calm would be felt and I wouldn't feel ashamed for being me. I would feel proud of who I am rather than hide in the shadows of the voices. While she fidgeted with the keys, I took the oppertunity and kissed her gently on the lips. I felt her soft lips mesh with mine and felt the wrinkled skin scrunch into a peck. My head spun and my heart skipped. She placed her arms around my neck and I weaved my fingers through her hair. It seemed like an eternity but we finallly broke. She blushed when she opened her eyes. I didn't want it to stop. I kissed her again and this time I opened my mouth. I invited her tongue, letting mine escape to her bottom lip. She reached out and I met hers with mine. Our tongues danced a wild tango within our mouths, widening to get a deep kiss. Finally, we broke and I smiled at her. It must have been a long time yet since I felt the urge to smile. She looked at me then finally opened her door. She leaned back gave me a kiss on the cheek and winked at me. She closed the door and I turned and walked down the dark sidewalk. I started to chuckle to myself and felt that I was finally knowing who I really was.

My name is Fred Krueger and I'm in love.

September 1958.

I don't know of how long I have been seeing Loretta but every day is like a new run in, a new embrace. The kiss that we have shared millions of times still felt like the first time in June. I would dream thoughts of her, running through wildflowers, waching her floral dress billiow in the breeze as lillacs would kiss her thighs. I felt like a new man when I was with her. I would always dread the times I would have to return to my home, lonely and miserable. Just when I thought that I would be ok, the voices would return. Provoking me to bad things. I didn't want to do these things, now that I have Loretta in my life. This was God's way of telling me I have a second chance a life; a way to the Kingdom of Heaven, to finally be with my mother. She would be so excited to hear that I'm seeing Loretta. I would imagine while I was roaming around the house, they would share stories about me when I was younger, how I would cause such a ruckuss and hear them giggle as they sipped iced tea. My dreams feel so real sometimes, that I start to think that it was my actual life. But...you and I both know that it was never that way. The beatings, bleeding and screaming was my childhood. The anger, the red sheen would always cover my young eyes whenever I would look at Underwood. These voices would talk to me, "get me away from the pain" as they would call it. It only fueled the rage that built within me after every slap, punch and kick. I do not wish to hear these voices. I want to be good. I don't want to have fantasies of little girls, skipping and lifting their dresses for me to play with their young, growing forbidden spots. I don't want my mouth to water when I would think and then find myself stroking my manhood wishing for the small hand to be replacing mine.

Loretta keeps me sane.

She holds me, comforts me when I feel that I am about to be bad. I don't want to be bad. I want to prove to the Lord, my mother and everyone else who hurt me that I can overcome anything. That I can be good. Still, I find myself int he middle of the night chuckling and moaning for that little girl to play with me. Feel her small fingers, rub up and down my manhood. I want to feel her small mouth on mine. I want to feel her insides and come within her, releasing what I have kept in me for the longest time. God, I have to stop talking about this. Loretta...you are my hope, my light within the darkness. Lend me your hand in this desperate time so that my bad thoughts and desires do not overtake my soul. I want you forever. I love you. I love you Loretta. I love you Loretta.

I love you forever, Loretta. My little bird, my sweet bird. My angel, my healer.

Sometimes I find myself forgetting her, like as if I have never met her. I say her name when I fall asleep in my cold bed, wishing for her to be next to me. Hearing her deep breaths when she would sleep upon my chest. Oh, God the sound of her heartbeat brings tears to my eyes now. This yearning for her touch intensifies with every breath I take. Every moment I'm not with her. I love to hold her hand and feel her lean fingers rub against mine as we walk down dim-lit streets. I'm afraid. I'm afraid of losing her and what I may become without her.

God cannot me comfort in this time of need.

She's the one that completes me.

Loretta...


	4. Chapter 4

**OK. I kinda feel that this isn't the best I've written in a while but I need to keep this going. I don't want to drag this out too much. I can't give a day-by-day or in this case month-by-month of what he was experiencing. I believe that getting the key moments in his life would be a way to get this set up for Freddy. I must have been sitting at home for a while trying to think of how to introduce this. I've only had 4 hours of sleep today and I'm struggling to keep my eyes open. So I wrote this to not only keep me awake but to also to set up what is to come within the few chapters. Thanks for all the reviews on this story! I want to give another thanks for DarknessTakesOver for commenting on so much feedback to help with the story. **

**Without futher a due...here's Chapter 4.**

**Mature Rating. Not for Sensitive Eyes. You have been warned.**

* * *

April 1963

I think that this day will be the beginning of something new and also something very terrifying I feel. After a long time thinking of the idea and getting the money established, I'm going to ask Loretta to marry me. It seems so blunt and tacky as I write it in this tattered notebook, but I really want her forever. I don't want her to sing to anyone else but me. My lovely songbird.

In the past few years that we have been together, I can't think of anything more simplistic than having her everyday for the rest of my life. Even all the words that I can write on this paper couldn't compare to the admiration, the continued devotion I have for her. For the first time in my life, I can honestly say that I'm happy. I'm over-joyed with love, the so-called butterflies in my stomach feeling. It's exhilarating!

I know that it seems like forever but I'll try and catch up. I only find this notebook tossed in the drawers, or in a box or even in the middle of the room. It just keeps calling me to write in it. Back in 1960, Loretta and I were beginning to talk about the future. I'll admit with our careers, as we called them, seemed to be stuck-in-a-rut jobs, we needed to seek other opportunities for employment. I've been with the factory for about….Wow! A little over two years at the time, and I thought that talking to my supervisor about a raise or even a promotion would do me some good to benefit Loretta and I. I did meet up with him, Frank aka Boss Man, and I basically told him that I've been here for a while now and that I'm going to be making some major changes in my life, I wanted to see about maybe a promotion.

"A promotion," he said in a sarcastic way, "You are a factory worker Mr. Krueger, not a office employee." I figured with him saying that, I knew that it was going to take a lot of coaxing.

I basically told him that I understand that an office and factory job are two different careers but I would like to see about moving up, maybe a supervisor or lead on the floor. I just remember him sitting back in his pristine leather chair and crossing his arms over his fat belly that just overlapped his trousers. He tried to look so valiant but he really just looked like a fat piece of shit with a stupid name plate to go with his gluttnous, vile, penny-pinching smirk.

_Maybe he should be put to sleep. Rather than sitting there telling you that you don't deserve a promotion. Hmm…I'm thinking strangulation until you see the whites of his eyeballs get flushed with red. Oh! Maybe hang him from the rafters of the lead floor. That would be something to perk up the other workers. Watch production soar! Hang the pig and then feast!_

The voice kept telling me different senarios of how I should deal with him, turning me down something that is a necessity in my life. I already hated Frank; almost every employee did, even the ones who worked in the office. He would try and persuade his female, never male, co-workers in his office to have dinner, or to stay over to work on some other office-related shit. At time I would see him come to the floor, staring at the younger girls, eyeing them up and down checking the curves of their hips, breasts and ass. He's such a prick.

_I got it! Cut his breaks so when he tries to stop, he plunges through his windshield and slaps his fat ass on the pavement while the tires roll over. I think that seeing him spilling his guts on the dark asphalt would be enough justice for you. Hell, I get tired of hearing him, his nasal-like tone with his head so far up his ass he could see what he ate that morning._

"Well, Fred. May I call you Fred? (No.) I know you have been a diligent worker on the production floor, it's just I haven't seen any integrity that you really want to have this position of a manager."

What? Integrity? Is that what you say to prospective workers that want to prove your fat-ass wrong? Is it code for "I don't want you to move up. I want you to suffer"? Integrity. I actually looked up that word:

**adherence to moral and eithical principles; soundness of moral character; honesty.**

Even trying to remember my thoughts exactly trying to get an answer for Mr. Fat Fuck.

"I have been with the factory for over two years now. I feel that with showing the dedication I've given you, it shows that I'm willing to work, hard and without complain. The other co-workers like my presence. I help anyone who's needing it. I advise others on how to operate the equipment. I believe that it shows that I would be a great manager."

I remember him, playing with his red bushy beard, rubbing the coarse hair between his fingers. After trying to debate with this asshole, he finally saw that I was really trying to get by in life. Yes I was only 20 but still, I had to think for my family. I had to be there for Loretta. She was the reason I went for this opportunity. Without her I would have rotted in the bowels of that factory and not even cared.

He did give me the position after going to him several times. On the last encounter with him, he did say he wouldn't give me the position.

Quite frankly I don't remember all that was said though. It was like I blacked out.

_I think that we can take it from here. I was basically getting sick and tired of watching you being the bitch, catching his shit with your mouth wide open for the landing. He told you didn't get the job because you were too young to hold so much responsibility. I knew you were starting to tear up a little bit, as all the memories of Underwood came flooding through. He made you think that you were nothing, not able to overcome anything that you achieved. You stood up and we slammed your hands onto his desk._

_"Listen. I've been through here twice now. I have tried to be nice and truthful in the way you want me to adhere to being a manager. I don't give a fuck whether it's because of my age or not. I've asked nicely for the position and now I'm not going to ask again. This time so that it will be embedded in your mind. I'll tell you. If you do not give me this opportunity to help with my "new" life, I'll make sure that yours will be extinguished. All I have to do is take my hands and wrap them so tightly around your fat neck and squeeze. All the pressure in your head will be to much to deal with and you will succumb to the effects."_

_He looked all scared in his tiny little leather chair, that he could barely sit in. He finally agreed that I should have the position, only if I do not hurt him. He was such a pussy. All bark and no bite. I saw the fear burning in his eyes as I was using your mouth to talk. I flooded your mind full of Underwood, holding that bottle in his hand and the belt in the other. How he would fondle you when you fell asleep when you were a child. Then, I just imagined the life leaving his eyes as he grasped for the blood flowing fast out of his pueny neck. He looked so much like a child. Oh….a child. So pure, innocent and damn gullible._

Honestly, I don't know what just came over me to write all of that, but I knew it was the voices that maneuvered my hand to write all that was given. I just remember coming into work and hearing a big "Surprise" coming from the break room. Lilly told me that I got the job as the area supervisor. I was actually stunned to know that I even got the job. Now that I can recall, I remember Frank walking pretty fast past me and veering toward the open door. Now I know why he was all up-tight and silent. I threatened him. I promise him that I would hurt him. Of course, Loretta didn't find that out either. She was excited to hear that I got the position. And I'm holding up very well. I moved out the apartment I was living in and got a house on Elm St. Little white house not too far from the school, which I hope that I'll hear little footsteps run through with years to come.

Loretta and I have now moved into the house. We have all kinds of furniture; couch, loveseat, coffee table, end tables, kitchen table, bookshelves. I swear I must have worked a whole lot in the work room in the basement for the longest time. It's home though. A home that I, sorry, we created.

This is the start of a new life for me. I'm going to ask her tonight. I have enough saved up to afford a diamond ring. It's small but it's only the thought that counts. I even engraved our names into the band. Fred and Loretta Krueger. I couldn't be happier and I know that with this gift, my bird will sing to me.

April 1963

SHE SAID YES! She said Yes. My mind is just flooded with joy. I cried in front of her. She cried too. Her warm embrace was enough to send me over the moon. I sobbed in her arms. She held me close as I fell onto both my knees. This is the happiest moment in my life. She was so shocked when I presented her the ring. She grasped her chest and gasped. I rehearsed it so many time that I can now do it without stuttering or anything. After I made us supper, I had her walk into the living room and sit on the couch. I had that ring burning in my pocket! It was all going to plan. She sat down and I came in and just looked at her.

"Loretta, within these past couple of years we have spent with each other, I cannot fathom the words to express the love I have for you. My heart swells everytime you come into the room and I can't stop looking at your beautiful eyes. You know I've lived a hard life, and you make up for those years I was in the dark. You were my guiding light of hope, faith, and prosperity. God did not give up on me even when I thought he did. When I first saw you, drenched from that rain we had, you glowed with that rain cacading down your face. You captured me. You reeled me in and I have never felt more happier with you than I can ever recall. Loretta, you are my bird that sings to me and tells me to admire what I have in life. I love you. With every inch of my mind and body I'll do everything I can to make sure you are safe and that you are happy. Loretta, my sweet bird, will you honor me in becoming my wife?" I presented the ring to her and she just teared up right there. She faintly said yes and I had to let her repeat it. She then looked up at me and said yes. My eyes flooded with tears. I put the ring on her shaking finger and then just wrapped her in my arms and held her tight. We kissed and I felt the tears fall from my eyes.

I feel almost complete. But there's still somethign that is missing and I can't figure it out.

_We know. _

June 1963

I tried to be good. Oh, God what have I done? I didn't mean it. I tried so hard to be good. I was outside the other day and I found that little girl jumping rope with her friends. She wore that same blue dress that I knew all too well. I tried to look like I was doing lawn work, trying to mow without running into Loretta's garden. She was smiling the whole entire time. Her toothless grin filled my mind. I turned off the mower and walked over. My heart was pumping the whole time I walked across the street. My breathing was erratic and I was trembling all over.

"Hey, sweetheart. I don't think that playing this close to the street is a good thing. Maybe you should move your game to the grass," I said trying to seem concerned for them.

"Ok." The girls said in unison. She grabbed the jump rope and walked up to the knoll and continued to play again.

"What game are you playing?" I asked cooing at them, jumping up and down.

"We….are …playing…Miss Sue, " the little blonde said as she tried to speak between jumps. Her little white shoes made clip-clop sounds as she impacted the ground. It was all slow-motion for me. Her muscles would tense as she bent her needs to jump then her toes would point down for a split second and then went flat again for the impact of the grass.

"That really nice. What is your name?" I could feel my knees starting to buckle.

"I'm Jamie," she said with a kool-aid stained smile. Jamie, mmm…Jamie.

"Nice to meet you Jamie. My name is Freddy." I reached my hand out to her and she met mine. Her tiny little hand. It fit right in the middle of palm. I moved my arm up and down to shake hers and she moved along with me. I could just imagine how her hand felt on my chest, my face….dare I say it? My manhood, throbbing with every slight touch she would trying to grasp the entire thing.

"Um..Freddy, I wanna go play with my friends. Can you let go?" Jamie asked me as I was still holding her hand. I let go and apologized to her.

"It was nice to meet you, Jamie. Make sure you stay on the grass and not so close to the street, ok?"

"I will Mister Freddy," she said, beginning to jump and sing her song.

I turned and crossed the street walking toward my front door, where I knew where I was safe. I felt so alive when I held her hand. I went back to my lawn mower and finished my yard, still looking at the girls, jumping in unison. They were so perfect.

_Freddy, we have to have her. We need Jamie. We want her. Not just us. But you. You've been fanaticizing about her for the longest time. I know you want to feel between those cotton panties. I wonder if she would feel wet? Would her core be ribbed or smooth?_

I tried to shake the bad thoughts away but I couldn't help but wonder. What would she feel like? I was so tired already from fighting the urge when I was shaking her hand. To not grab her and take her away, and have my way with her subtle body. I walked up to the house and closed my door with a loud thud. Loretta wouldn't be home for another couple of hours. I walked upstairs to the bathroom and closed the door quietly and rubbed my hand all over myself. Jamie's hand. I licked and pinched my nipples, my stomach, belly button and my thighs. The sting of my grip made me even more enthralled with the sensation. I then proceeded to rub my manhood with Jamie's hand. I closed my eyes and imagines her small hand, dirty from grass and sticky candy rubbing up and down. I moaned her name and stifled my giggles. I bit my lip and let the blood flow into my mouth, my tongue dragging across the rips.

It didn't take long until I was out of the bathroom. Loretta was already walking through the door, calling my name. I exhausted my air and walked down the stairs, causally, as if nothing happened.

"Hi, honey. Where were you?" she asked curiously

"I was upstairs, using the bathroom, washing my hands. I had grease all over them, fixing the lawnmower that I didn't to ruin the kitchen sink." I can't believe I just lied to my fiancé, who I'm suppose to be truthful and ever faithful. She smiled and kissed me and took her coat off and started supper.

While washing the dishes with her, she suddenly stopped.

"You have been smiling ever since I came home. Why are you so happy?" she asked, lowering her eyebrows, trying to investigate my smirk.

"Why wouldn't I not be smiling? I have the best fiancé in the world!" I kissed her forehead and continued drying the dishes. She smiled and went back to washing. In my head, I kept repeating her name.

Jamie…..

Jamie….

Jamie….

Jamie….

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**Like I said I'm not really liking this chapter. I really am starting to focus more on the darker side of Freddy. It's hard at times to have the elements of light and dark in the same chapter as you have to find a common ground with them. I hope that this only starts the questions in your head as to what will happen next. Trust me, the next few chapters are very gruesome, erotic and sometimes rather scary. But like I said before none of this is from personal experience. I read works from NOES from romantic ties to the guesome ones. I kinda paint my own portrait of Freddy. As a fan of the old movies, I wanted to keep what was already given to us, what we already knew. This is my take on what could have happened. I did do some research into this story so that's why it has some relative elements into the aspect of a child murder/abuser. My husband is a psychology major and no story is complete with out the sense of psychological thriller/horror aspect, the inner workings of a deranged mind. It's not what a murder or even a fictitious character like this does, it's how they do it. How it's seen through their eyes. **

**REVIEW PLEASE! THANKS AGAIN!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Ok...here's the 5th chapter. It's a little toned down but I do have a link up to where you can read the uncensored version. Just go to my profile and you'll see it. Enjoy. BTW, I'm thinking about starting another story but it's not going to be revolving around NOES. Something different...something ...well, just something. Send me a message or post it with your review.**

**Sweet Dreams!**

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August 1963

Diary, I don't know how long I can keep myself from these inner urges that flow within my veins. The voices talk about Jamie all the time. I can't keep myself from thinking them and then follow relieving myself trying to rid of the bad inside. Loretta is a little bit fishy as to why I'm so cheery around her. I keep saying it's because she's a beautiful woman or the most loving wife and man could ever have. I do love her very much but she does not fuel my desire. Yes we've made love, if that's what everyone else calls it, but I don't feel satisfied. I've seen her back arch when every thrust but it's not always her I think of. Given it's been only a few months since we've been married but I can't keep picturing Jamie's frail face clouding my wife's own. Her blonde hair thrown about her shoulders and pillow and her opening her mouth, letting panted breaths escape along with stiffled moans. I want her so much that I have to close my eyes tight to try and evade the evil. It only lures me in like a fish on a line. I have to have my eyes closed when I'm near my end. I would just trust harder and fast and then hear a small scream, it fuels the speed. I go faster until I climax into oblivion, hearing myself groan with pleasure and then succumb under the rapid beating of my heart. I open my eyes to find my wife screaming from the pain, crying. She always keeps asking "why didn't you stop when I said your name? Why did you go faster? Why were your eyes closed?" It's happening too often when we make love. Given it's only been a few months since we've said our vows, but it's not becoming apparent to Loretta that something in my mind is overshadowing her when we are eloped in the sheets of our own bed. It's not that I do not try to keep her in my head. She is after all a beautiful woman. I am attracted to her. But I find myself sometimes asking her to dress a little different, part her hair different, almost like dressing a child. Pig tails, overalls, skirts and colorful blouses. But even that doesn't suffice the constant urge I feel within. When Loretta is not home I peer out of my window and watch Jamie and her friends, draw with chalk on the sidewalk or play tag in the neighboring yards. I find myself disappearing into the darkness and this other void comes through. I don't know how to describe it, but it's like me when I was 15 or 16, full of hurt and hate towards everyone. When I see this little girl, I find myself feeling those inner urges surface. My posture is different and everything. I'm so frightened by the way I sound. It's raspier, breathless words when I open my mouth. I kind of hunch over when I walk, like I'm being hunch down by the weight of what I carry everyday in my mind.

_If you have thought thoroughly last time, you wouldn't have the build up of so many things. You are so weak, Fred. Without us, I think you would have fallen to your death at the factory from the catwalk. You are so pathetic that you say you want to cure youself, but you let the urges feed on you and that which us makes us talk, scream at you for you to hurry the fuck up! Quit ignoring us and listen!_

The voices talk to me every night before I go to bed, patronizing me about Jamie, who I should go see her or try to get her to come over. Sometimes I think they are winning when I find myself in the house and then out on the porch the next. It's like blacking out but yet you realized what you are doing. I guess…

_If you actually obeyed then we wouldn't sit there and let you think of Jamie everytime you closed your eyes, seeing images of her young pure body playing in the rain as it touched her arms her legs her cheeks. Damn, even the rain has gone to 3rd base with her and yet all you do is piddle in your fucking pants. What a pussy! A small minded freak that has so many secrets, that even his God would never forgive and would rather see him boil in a pit of acid._

(sighs)

Loretta is still working at the diner unfortunately. She tried to see about getting and office job but they said that they were full. I remember her crying as she was explaining she was not trying to put all of the responsibility of having to make money on me.. I told her that if it's God's way of telling her that she should be at home, and then listen to Him. Only He knows the truth of what is to come and what betters our lives. Another dark part of me wants to yell at her for not trying hard enough to peruse something greater. It's like she lacks integreity (oh, that word). She seems rather lazy at times, wanting me to everything from cooking to cleaning. I get real annoyed at her and I just want to last out at her. I feel like taking care of Underwood again. Watching her sitting on her ass watching mind-numbing television, I keep picturing Underwood in his dark baseball cap and that bottle of whiskey, splashing in the bottle when he would take quick swigs of it. I want to slap her, tell her that she needs to stop and be more productive, but I can't. I even want to scream at myself to get over these heartless thoughts and images, rid of the beast that slumbers within and awakens when I least expect it. I don't know what I'm going to do. I have so many conflictions in my head that it's enough for a madman to go sane. The voices, the urges of sexual pleasure; I know that I'm a shrink's favorite patient. If only I did go to sessions.

_The fucking shrink would rather see you dead then you give away your secrets as away to better yourself. His medicines and science cannot touch your demented mind. Not without us hanging about. With out us Fred, you are nothing. A measly boy who still dreams of little girls with wet panties, no tits and wacks in the bathroom, trying to imagine how it feels on the inside. You will never change, Fred. You will always suffer...until that one day you give in._

October 1965.

Well...I just found out that we are expecting one of our own now. I just found out that Loretta is pregnant, three weeks to be exact. I didn't know whether to shit or go blind. I'm terrified yet I'm excited. I fear for the child because if these thoughts run in my head, they will in his/hers. I pray and hope to God that it never happens. After several years of trying, we finally are successful with the rapture of the Lord who gave a gift of life to us. Given it's only been a short few days since we found out from our doctor, but it fills me with such anticipation, waiting for he/she/it to come into this world. When we were in the exam room, the doctor came back and just stared at us for a brief second. We really were concerned since Loretta couldn't keep anything down or even hold a simple converstaion without her turning to bitch in .5 seconds. After debating over the fact we finally agreed we should go see the doctor.

"Well Mrs. Krueger I got some news for you. We ran a few tests and found that what you were experiencing wasn't necesarily the flu or anything bug-wise. You are 3 weeks pregnant. Given with how long you are, I would say you will be due sometime around May."

_Holy shit. This is going to be interesting._

My mind went into a total blur. My thoughts were jarbled and the voices were, for once, silenced. Everything around me went into a slow motion time warp. The doctors jestures were fluid as I saw the tears in Loretta's eyes begin to fall in big drops, leaving trails of wet lines down her sunken cheeks. I tried to catch up but with everytime I tried I felt myself drifting further away, whether it's from the movements or the voices faded or warped even more.

_This is going to throw everything off. With the expectations of a child in your reach, you are going to need to being to be quiet about your urges_

_"_What the hell have I been doing for several years?"

_You have only silenced them for a brief period of time. Soon it will be too much to bear. You need to listen to us, Fred. This time we need your full attention._

"I don't know"

_Fred, we have been with your since the beginning. If you do not listen to us, we will drive you insane with the perverse images and thoughts to where you will either end up in a padded room, or with a gunshot wound in the back of your skull. Which do you choose, listen, or die. Either way we will carry on to another and hopefully they will be more compliant with us._

"What do I need to do?"

_Listen._

I began to listen to them tell me what I should do to control urges, the missing link in my life.

"FRED! Are you ok?"

Somehow while the voices talked I must have passed out because I found myself on the cold lineoleum floor. The doctor had something waving in front of my nose, wafting the odor as I came around.

Loretta told me with the news of our unborn child, I fainted when I heard how long it would be until he/she/it would be here. I really don't remember anything about how long it would be here since I was talking with my inner minions, or should it be more companions. While driving home with Loretta asleep in the passenger seat, I still tried to comprehend what was told me in into the simplest form. With time comes many things we do not always understand.

I've realized through constant struggles of myself and these voices, I know that the only peace within me could only be attained through acting in these urges; these thoughts. And I couldn't be any calmer. I gave into them. I listed to them and I like what they had to say. Honestly, through all these years I would yell at them to stop yet I never took the time to listen. Now, I understand completly when they talk to me. I feel their emotions, the manifestations which they come to life when I let them take over.

_You will be ok, Fred. Just breathe and let the inner you come through. You will thank me later. Just play it by ear and see where it goes. If you feel that it's not going to work, it's ok we will work on another child. _

I found Jamie again one afternoon playing with her friends. She was a little older now. Around 10 I think. She was taller of course and her feet were ever growing from the new shoes I would see on her feet every week. She was starting to develop and I saw how she would become a beautiful, ripe woman. I watched her and tried to figure out a specific plan of how to lure her so I can finally have her in my reach. I did approach her and asked her if she would like to come over to my house and play with some new dolls I got. I told her that God was going to give me a daughter soon and that I needed to see if these dolls would be pretty enough for her to play with. Without hesitation, she agreed. I thought that children would be of curious beings, but Jamie stood out from all the rest. I couldn't help but feel the smirk I haven't given in 10 years fall on my face again. I walked her across the street, holding her delicate hand gently in my coarse fingers. I walked her up my porch into my doorway.

Now, she was finally mine.

I told her that the toys were upstairs. I remember her smiling at the thought she got to play with new toys. The toys I kept mentioning her to play with were with her all this time. We reached the top of the stairwell and she ran into the spare bedroom, where I did lay a few dolls. Their clothes were tattered a little bit but still were able to be played without falling apart upon touch. Her eyes lit up as she saw the dolls on the bed. She ran up and climbed onto the mattress. I got to see a glance of her panties as she climbed the bed.

My heart pounded. My underwear was tightening with every second that she sat there.

I joined her, playing with the dolls, roll playing adventures saving the day. I wanted her so bad, right there I didn't give a fuck less as to playing a game with some stupid dolls.

_Don't let it take over you. Overcome the urge. Deep Breaths._

_The lion stalks his prey, cautiously. Fred, don't make it seem to forced. Be curious._

"Jamie, do you want to play a game?" I asked her.

"Yes"

_She said yes! Think of something clever! _

"This game is called the 'funny mirror' game. What we do is that we pretend we are the dolls and then we act out with the dolls. Whatever the dolls do we do. Ok?"

"Ok." I was finally nearing my goal. The voices were so quiet, patiently waiting.

I grabbed the little boy doll and she grabbed the girl doll. I put it's plush hand out and told her to shake hands. She did and then we acted out. She smelled like soap and grass, yet a small hint of sweat.

We went back and forth for a while, acting out like we were having tea, giving hugs, acting like dogs and cats. It was all child's play and I began to get annoyed.

"It's ok, Jamie. It will be our little secret. No one will know. I won't tell anyone, will you?" I asked her, childishly.

_Lead her on to believe you. Establish the trust. Then it will be only time._

"I won't tell, Freddy. I won't tell."

After I walked her back over to her front yard, I asked her when she would want to play again. She was a little quiet about it so I told her that it was ok to talk to me. What we did will never have to be told to anyone. I told her we should do it again next week. She nodded and adjusted herself, I would imagine from the discomfort she felt, it was new to her so as she kept touching herself; she felt to know that it will get better. I walked back to my porch and sat on the steps. After what seemed an eternity I felt more centered, more human.

_Less human, but more tapped into your inner self._

December 1965

This is going to be one of the worse 9 mos. in my entire adult life. I am about to throw Loretta down the stairs and just let her suffer. But with that little child growing in her, I do not go forward with the thought. Every fucking second it's "Fred will you do this, Fred will you do that" I've about had it with the constant nagging she has. She eats everything in the house, I'm suprised she doesn't find the wood panneling appealing, or the cotton in the couch resembling anything like mashed potatoes.

_Fred, do it...end the suffering. The constant nagging, the ever ending errands and chores that her lazy ass will not do anymore. She's not even that big in the first place but she will use every fucking minute to make hers more pleasant while yours is ever more miserable._

They are right. I've almost got the chance to do so but for some odd reason I stopped myself. I thought about putting Arsonic or Cynanide in her oatmeal or her never ending potato chip cravings. But every time I get the chance to grab some poison, I think about that little thing in her belly. It's a part of me too. I wouldn't want this child to be brought up in this world without a parent, whether it's mother or father missing. Loretta did bring up if I should name the child after my mother if it's a girl. I have a feeling it's going to be a girl of how Loretta is acting. Bitchy and everything. Wanting this, needing that. Girls always want or need something. If they can't have it, they pitch a fit and bitch. Screaming, crying, whining. It's enough to make me throw up with such annoyance. But I suck it up and deal with it for that child in her belly. If it turns out just like Loretta, I know there was some type joke or curse played on me. I can't handle two Lorettas.

_You name that child Amanda I will make sure that you and her suffer for the time your hearts still beat._

I don't know why these voices have such a nasty tone to when my mother's name is brought up.

_That fucking whore tore you away from the world and with that you shouldn't be crying or waiting to see her in heaven. You need to have this ever growing anger towards her. She lead you to where you grew up, listeing to Underwood thrash a belt on your back, fonding you when he had too much to drink and the constant name calling, the singing of that filthy song. Why do you find that she is never the reason why you are the way you are?_

I do find myself now listening to these voices every so much now. They keep on pointing out rather true facts within my childhood and my adult life. Why would my mother abandon me if she was so self-righteous? Why would I have to be given to a man who was never a father figure or even a ligimiate human being? Why would she not take me? Why would she forsake me? At time I have to stop myself from asking these questions because part of me doesn't hate my mother. That part of me yearns for her comfort, her solice. You know, at times that part seems to dwindle and the anger does show through. It feels that the yearing is now being wilted away with anger and hurt.

_In due time, Freddy we will begin to see your true colors show through._

I'm starting to like the sensation of feeling in control. It's like being a king and you rule over everyone and what ever you say, goes. Whether they like it or not. They do it. Jamie is mine, as I am her King. She will never forget that. I am her King, I'm the one she will worship. Wait, that's more than a king. Ones who let me do as I please, worship me and come to me at every beckoning call?

That's not a King...that's a God.

_We like the sound of that..._

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**Ok...I want to keep my profile open so I had to change this chapter up a bit...if you want to read the full uncensored version, go to my profile and click on the link. It's still labeled as Chapter 5.  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**Alright. Here it is! I've decided to start speeding things up a little bit on here so I can keep up with the timeframe and also I don't want to drag it out. This is a little bit censored as some material is a little out there. Check out my link to get the uncensored version in my profile. I have written other things as well just side-works that have been on my mind. But...I'm back on track now. Thank you so much for all of your reviews. I'm very astounded that everyone likes this story. Thank you again!**

** Without further due...**

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May 1966

I can't be the happiest man in the world! Loretta gave birth to a baby girl. We call her Katherine. She's so small, almost like a little football. When I first saw her covered in blood and placenta, she looked almost like an alien. With Loretta heaving, pushing and screaming at me, I only found it to thank her for giving me such a wonderful gift. We cried together when we held her. Her little stubby feet and arms were like sausage links. We laughed and cried some more and just talked to her. When I first held her, she was so light. She was screaming like a banshee but it only let me know she was alive.

_We all know where she got the rage from. Nice job, Freddy._

We wrapped her in soft pink cotton, bound her within to keep her warm. While she was in my arms she looked up at me and smiled. I was absolutely shocked since babies can't open their eyes when they are first born, due to intensity of the light. But it was like she didn't feel the penetrating light in her retinas. She smiles just like her mother; a sweet congealing smile that warms every part of you. I just keep looking at her, trying to put it together of how I, Fred Krueger, made something so beautiful. She was everything I ever wanted. She had my eyes, her mother's hair, bright brown and blonde. Her Smile. My Jaw. Her hands. My feet. A even combination of Loretta and me.

_Hope she didn't get the insanity that sparks in your mind. That would only make her a deformity rather than perfect. _

I pray she didn't get the demons in her head. I would rather kill myself that bestow this "gift" on her. I would imagine it would drive her over the brink of insanity than what I've done. I can't ever wish that on her. She's my daughter. She's my blood, flesh and bone. I can't imagine doing anything remotely what I've done to others, especially Jamie.

She's stopped coming by. Being only 13 now, I would imagine that her interest would be in something else. School, boys, cheerleading. When I do see her, she's not attractive anymore. Yeah, with every teenage girl, you go through periods of acne, mood swings, and cramps and blood in your panties. This blood though, it stinks more than what I'm use to. Yeah breaking a hymen you see the bright blood, sweet tasting. This blood though, it's like old-iron and you can't ever get the taste out of your mouth. It's stickier, darker and it clots fast. I found this out when Jamie and I were playing. Since she was older and a wee bit wiser we skipped the dolls and went to what we know best. She was tighter don't give me wrong it was fabulous, but the after math only made me want to puke than anything. She wasn't pure anymore. It was like she was wasted, not useful anymore. It broke my heart and yet part of me was jealous because I would never get to experience her innocence again. Extinguished, never to be ignited or broken again. It's a rather strange feeling jealousy. When I saw her getting onto the bus, not coming across the sidewalk from my house, it made me mad that she was going a different route, or she wasn't coming to visit me. I thought that she would have someone else to play with her, but I realized that I turn that jealousy into pride. I was proud that I introduced her to the new experiencing things that she and I had. Very proud. She was going to spread her knowledge.

_You mean spread her legs, Fred. You made her a whore._

Now with Katherine coming into the world, my whole time has been with her. Changing poopy diapers and helping her by feeding breast milk. I would watch Loretta and Katherine together after dinner, she would suck and suck that nipple until it was either red raw or there was no more milk flowing. When Loretta tried to pull her away, she would scream loud and cry until she ran out of breath. We couldn't keep her yelling and screaming all the time so I just yell back at Loretta "Give her your tit and shut up about the pain. It's just a weakness that you need to get over with!" Loretta would just stare back at me in fear and do as I told her. It's rather interesting to see what that woman could do after a few times telling her what to do. I feel rather good about it. When I want to spend time with Katherine, I tell her to work at the diner. I still think she's a fool for passing up so many opportunities. What a waste. I love her but sometimes she's that nagging person who just whines and complains about everything. I'm really starting to think that her nagging is a way to keep in contact with, keep tabs on me. I'm really not liking that.

"Where are you going, Fred?" she would ask me. How she says it sounds like I'm leaving her for good and Katherine just a mother, no father. I will tell her that I would be going to work, down to the bar or something. With that affirmation, she would calm down and act like nothing happened. I think this is what is called clingy, where someone holds on to you on a short leash, like a damn puppy. I'm not a fucking puppy. I'm a grown man and I don't need you, mother, to keep on figuring out what I'm doing. She creates accusations, too saying I'm seeing someone else or that I'm doing something else than what I told her. I've been faithful to her, well, kinda but Jamie doesn't really count. She was just a release for me to gather myself and focus on my own life and give the fucking voices a break from bitching at me. That's why I spend so much time in the basement. For some odd reason, it comforts me. Normally the bad memories would spawn but somehow they never come anymore. That's where I build Katherine's crib, bed, changing bed, and rocking chair. I do spend a lot more time, since I eat dinner there, watch TV and listen to the baseball game. Every time I go down there, dishes are piled on top of each other, glasses and ceramic cups still full of cold coffee would be airing, some had patches of green and black mold floating on top.

_Hey Freddy, looks like you got some plants trying to grow. Or even better, Pets._

"Shut the fuck up, for once please?" I would keep asking them. They would giggle , sometimes snort and snicker. I hate how they laugh. When I didn't have something to do or if Loretta wasn't bitching, I would find myself going to Katherine's room and watch her sleep. She almost looks like a doll in the moonlight. Breathing every other second and smiling in her sleep. I'm so glad she has good dreams. I would play with her hand and let her hold my pinkie. She does have a grip, for just something so new to the world. Looking into her crib I'm so glad to have a daughter like her. She's perfect and I couldn't ask anything less or more from God. Such a miracle, this one. She's never going to leave my side. I already love her enough to smother her with kisses and hugs.

_She's is cute...for a baby. Still too young to play with though...ain't that sad?_

This is one thing that I will not do to my daughter. What happened with Jamie was because I was interested in her. I wasn't in love. It was lust and absolute sin that I cannot forgive myself for doing what I did. But Katherine? She's my life. I gave it to her. I gave her the innocence, and I'll be damned if I will let someone else take it from her.

September 1966

This kid is driving me nuts! Crying, bitching, whinning, pooping, peeing. I'm changing diapers 7 times a fucking day. All this kid does is eat, poop cry. Are you really serious? Loretta said that's what a baby does, the hell they do! They are suppose to sleep. Sleep through the day, wake up, eat, and go back to sleep. That's it. No, Katherine just stays awake, crying or eating or shitting fucking diapers until they are so full they leak onto her legs. I told Loretta we need to take her to the doctor, see if there something wrong with her. Loretta refuses to take the child to the doctor. I've about had it with her lip when I mention something about the doctor. I'm looking out for my fucking daughter for Christ's sake! That's what a father does, you twit of a wife. I've been married to this woman for a few years now and everyday is a struggle to get anything pass her. I have to do dishes at night because her feet are sore from work. Woman, your feet never hurt in the first place when you work there. Why the sudden change? If it's because of her being a mom and working at the diner, I'll hit her so hard that some sense will knock her in or out.

_Freddy, you're talking like him, again._

_"_Who?"

_Underwood. That son-of-a-bitch who would hit, kick, punch whatever he wanted to do to you. You sound just like him. I guess his legacy does move on. Fueling the desire, I feel it._

"NO! I'm not him. I'll never be him. That sick bastard was the reason I have these thoughts. The fucking asshole who would do nothing but bitch at me- Wait!"

The realization was like electricity flowing through my body. What am I doing now? I'm cleaning after Loretta, taking care of her and Katherine. I cook when I don't work or get off early. She sits on that fucking couch and whines. Oh my God! I didn't kill him after all. He's inside her. She's acting the same way he did when I was fifteen. Why can't I just get the hell away from him? I cut his fucking throat clean and watched the blood pool out from him. I burned his body, charred and watched it crumble in the flames. How in the hell could he follow me here? He's a damned soul and I know they won't come around and imbed themselves into others. Sprits don't do that, do they?

_"Nope. He's something else."_

A demon festers in a person and changes them. They alter their mind and change their personality. Is Loretta really haunted and is now being tortured by Underwood? It would seem like him to fuck around with me just to hurt me. That must be it! Loretta is posessed by that demon Underwood. How do you rid a demon?

_"You take away it's power. The energy you gave him. But when you were young you had so much energy that he beat out of you that it would power a nuclear bomb. 6 years is a long time to be with Underwood and all the shit you had to go through."_

Then I have no other choice...If I can't take his energy from him, then I'm going with Plan B: Loretta will sing no more for me, or anyone else. If she cannot get out of her lazy vacation bullshit, then I'll try another way. I'm not going to resort to beating her, it only would make me angrier. I love her enough that I will end the suffering she has endure with Underwood inside her. Loretta, my sweet bird, your voice now faulters against the winds and now is nothing more of a sqwak of noise. Silence is your medicine.

December 1966

Katherine's first Christmas was a hit! SHe was dolled up in a green emerald felt dress with white lace around the neck. She had her little baby headband around her crown and she was absolutly adorable! I love Katherine so much. It warmed me to see her blue eyes open large at all the christmas lights, the boxes of presents wrapped in many colors, the carolers singing outside on the curb. It was almost like Heaven. My Christmas' when I was in the orphange and with fuck-ass they were nothing compared to what I have whitnessed this day in this year. The orphange would have small gifts of socks or little toys that would only keep kids interested for maybe a day or two but then would be lost, taken or broken. I remember when I got a jack-in-the-box when I was four. It had streamers that would come out of it along with a clown with wild orange hair. It would laugh when it popped out. I loved that toy. It scared the shit out of me but then made me laugh in the end. It was sad when I found it broken and the clown was ripped out, showing the silver spring under his costume. It was almost like he was tortured then just left for dead. Thanks to Tommy, mindless asshole, he stole it from me when I was sleeping and just demolished the toy. I don't know how long I cried after I found it's body out of the box. When I would try to play it, the music was warped and missing notes. It was almost a solemn eulogy rather than a cherry tune.

Then there was Christmas' with Underwood. What Christmas? The only thing he would ever decorate was a plastic santa in the living room. He got that for me when I first moved in, when he was a little sociable and decent. Well, he was never decent but I didn't know it then. It would light up and show santa's rosy cheeks, his bright red suit and green mistletoe in his right hand. As the years progressed though and his drinking became more of a habit, the santa didn't brighten up the room anymore. Soon the batteries died and the colors of his suit and rosy cheeks turned brown and black from the smoke, dust, and ill treatment of it. It had cracks, some parts were busted through and just gathered at the bottom. When I saw that santa the last time, it made me realize that Christmas was for kids that had parents or in my case, foster parents, was more of a tradition that was handed down. Underwood had no tradition, just his bottle of booze. After that, I hated Christmas. Every song, shopping mall, even the decorations were just wasted crap. There was no feeling, no meaning behind it. I just left me with thoughts of an empty stomach and a dark house.

Since Katherine was born, I've been exicted to show her things that usually I wouldn't give a damn for. Christmas lights on houses, seeing Santa Claus in the mall, having her picture taken, dressing her up, singing songs. I don't want her to grow up the same way I did. I don't want to keep her in the darkness when she can experience Christmas, or anything else, like every other kid on the street. Loretta made a stuffed ham, stuffing and sweet potatoes. I loved how she made dinner. She had so much love in it and made every bite, every swallow a great privilege. I think I must have had 3 plate-fulls of food. Katherine played in the wrapping paper, moving her arms swishing the paper around her. She looked like an angel in the middle of it. After opening presents, we found her sleeping, cuddled with wrapping paper in her arms. I couldn't help but chuckle as I reached for her. I held her close as she streteched her arms out, open her eyes and fall back asleep.

Thank you, Katherine. You gave me the best Christmas I've ever had. The first for you and me.

June 1967

What...have ...I ...done? I can't write these words in this journal. They are nothing but a sin, even writing them, I whisper to myself when I move my hand to print. God, I'm digging so hard into the paper that it's started to rip. I can't keep my hands still. My breathing is eratic.

_We can tell. You saw Joey on his bike earlier today while you were sitting on the porch. You were a bit bum with Katherin and Loretta gone for the weekend, to visit her parents. You were watching him, like a hawk. He took a tumble off his bike and landed on his side. He scraped his knee. He was crying softly enough for you to hear him. And wouldn't you know it, you came running over to him. You were consoling him, telling him that you had a first-aid kit in your basement and you could fix his bike._

_His chain was off the bike, it could have been a easy fix right there. But no, you cunning little bastard. You took him in your hand and the bike in the other. You walked casually across the street up to the fence. Once you got back to the backyard you opened up the cellar door and escorted him in the darkness. Like a gentleman. The boy was a little scared but you assured him that it was ok. I could feel the smile across your face. _

_"_I don't want to know anymore."

_Oh but you do. You sat him on your bench and tended to his knee. After applying the band-aid you told him that there was a popcicle in the freezer in the other room and that he could go get it. He smiled at you and wiped his tears away. You then grabbed your crowbar, since that was the only thing around._

"NO! I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ANY OF THIS!"

_You will listen NOW! You followed him into the other room and raised the crowbar over your head. You hands were steady and strong and striked the child's head. He fell almost imedieately. You were humming to yourself as you went over to your workdesk. This was something that even we were suprised, you made something._

_"_What did I make?"

_We thought that you were mindless at this. But we were proven wrong. You slipped this tool across your hand. It looked like a glove, but it wasn't. It was more of a prototype since it was missing a few pieces. Your right hand slipped into it. You then walked over to the child and laid him on his back. He was out cold and the blood from his head was seeping through his blonde hair, almost orange-ish. _

_"_Please, God. Tell me that I did nothing to that child. Tell me that I helped him and I should be locked up and taken far away."

_God wasn't there, Freddy. Just you, that glove and the kid. You raised your hand high and shined the metal fingers into the glowing work lights. And then you lunged those piercing knives into the boys belly. The feeling was something of hamburger meat. There was blood everywhere. The boy never even flinched, or screamed. You kept stabbing him, and slashing his young chest, leaving clawmarks around his heart. _

_"_God in Heaven...what have I done?"

_You opened yourself up, Freddy. But this time, we never helped you. You did this all on your own. We watched and applauded you._

"What happened after I...killed that boy?"

_You gathered his body and wrapped him in a blanket and waited until dark. You did clean up the blood so that if Loretta came down she wouldn't know the difference. Bitch couldn't see a plane crashing right in front of her if you told her. When the pale moonlight was out, you took his body and put him in your truck and drove to the factory. Luckily it was the graveyard hours and no one was working at the time. You should know the rest._

"I took him and put him in the furnace. Didn't I?"

_Well with that encouter you had to. It's more of your signature. You had to rid the body somehow, dumbass. Just like Underwood you watched as his body burned. This time though it was a little different._

_"_How was it different?"

_You were giggling and talking to yourself. You said "Sweet Dreams, little piggy."_

_

* * *

_**Finally! This chapter was eating me up for the past 3 days. Finally I got it done! Yeah, it's a little bit longer than the other chapters but I need to get that in there. As Freddy said in Freddy vs. Jason, "and that's when the fun really began."**


	7. Chapter 7

**I'm sorry guys. It's been really hectic with reality. Working extra hours and everything else in life. I finally got to adding this chapter within a matter of hours. Pretty fast I think but it should be good. It's just a little side-step from what will be happening in the next chapter. All hell is going to break loose and that's all I will say about Chapter 8. I maybe working on it tonight when I get off from work. Hopefully at that time I'll be on the ball with the story. I also got sidetracked with some one-shot's that came to my mind. Check them out "Senses" and "Serenade with the Devil". I know that HeyItsKATE has been messaging me asking me to continue on with the next chapter. Here ya go, HeyitsKATE, I thought of you and got it done, lol. This is where we start to see the falling out of Freddy and Loretta. Enjoy!**

**Without further due...**

* * *

October 1967.

I'm getting really tired of having to deal with Loretta breathing down my neck all the fucking time. What is her deal? All she does is ask questions of "Are you alright?" and "Where are you going, Fred?" It's like deal with a fucking puppy I want to strangle by it's small neck. She's finally letting Katherine crawl around the house after I had to yell at her to stop being so protective over my daughter. She thought it was a hurtful thing to say, but I really don't care anymore. She's been holding Katherine everywhere she goes, not putting her down to even eat. That's really stupid. Such a worrisome thing, Loretta is. If she isn't holding Kathering, worrying about her swallowing something that even is too big to put around her mouth, she's yelling at me. It's over the same bullshit that she argues about every day, like she's never talked about it before.

She wonders why I keep going out all the time. Why after my shift that I just want to go for a drive or work overtime. I keep telling her it's about the money I'm worried about; I want Katherine to have pretty things like new dolls and clothes.

_That's what you tell them._

Shut up! Anyways…that's what I tell her. I don't want her to know the real reasons as to why I go out a night. Two things come to my mind when I do what I do; One: I'm tired of sitting at home, with Loretta crying about how she has to clean everything up in the house, how she has to do everything when I'm not there. Bitch, bitch, bitch. That's all I ever hear.

_I'm getting a headache just listening to you bitch about her bitching._

Well, I'm sorry. It seems that no one else fucking listens to me when I have things on my mind. I've about had it with all her shit. I've already hit her once for raising her voice at me. She was bitching about the stove, because it had caked-on macaroni and cheese. I'm sorry I am not as good in the kitchen; I'm not perfect. She basically came into the living room and stood there waiting for me to notice her face, all puffy and red.

"Yes, honey?"

"What is this?" she asked me. She holds up on a rag a couple noodles burned with dried cheese.

"Dinner?" I asked.

"No! This is from 3 days ago, Fred. I've asked you repeatedly to clean up after yourself when you come home late. I don't understand why I have to keep bothering you with it. You just sit here night after night, staring into the television, not even recognizing the effort I put into this house to keep it safe and clean. I can't have Katherine growing up in a house that's messy. It can get her sick."

"So what you are telling me, Loretta is that I'm lazy?" I said looking at her. She just blatantly said that I'm lazy and that I really don't care for my own daughter. What got into her fucked-up mind to ask such a question to me?

She knew then I was serious when I asked her. "No, that's not what I mean. What I mean is-"

"So you don't think I care for the safety and health of my own child? Who are you to come in here, raise your voice at me for some caked-on macaroni that was on the stove? Listen, Loretta, every time I come home, I have you hear you bitch at me for something so small that turns into a life threatening issue to the safety of my own fucking daughter."

"Please, Fred. Don't use that language." And then I was pissed.

"HEY! You don't tell me what to do in my own home. I pay the bills here I work my fucking ass off to make things so comfortable to you and Katherine. Get off your high horse and don't tell me how I should talk in my own fucking home. For you to know, don't come in here with this prideful look on your face and say that I don't care for my own daughter. Don't you ever come in here and boast to me of how I should clean my house."

"It's our house, Fred, not just yours. I'm just concerned for the well-being of Katherine, is all."

_Let her have it, Fred. She doesn't care about you or what you do for the family. She wants to close off Katherine from you. The cursing, the food left on the stove; I've had enough and so have you._

I got up and stood in front of her. I took my hand and just swiped it across her face. The contact was a high powered clap, reverberating off the walls. She stumbled over and held her face, red and swollen. She looked up at me and thought the world came crumbling down. I bent down to her.

"The only thing you care about in MY house is the fact you want to still live the dream of a happy family. You want this, you want that. I need this, I need that. I've worked my hands to the bone so that you can buy your fucking nic-knacks and dollies. I don't give a shit what you think about the well-being of my daughter. All you do now days is hold Katherine in your hands. She's a year old for Christ sakes; she should be crawling around the house, getting into things. She's a God-damn child. She's not a trophy for you to hold up whenever someone comes through that fucking door. Let her roam around the house and be a parent, not a fucking burden. This is MY house Loretta; you are my FUCKING WIFE, NOT MY MOTHER! So don't come in here and place blame on me for the slightest thing that seems out of your petty world. Get out of your fucking world of gold and silver. Let that mark on your face be a warm welcome into the world of reality. Now leave me alone so I can enjoy the rest of my night without your bitching and complaining."

She got up from the floor and I remember her having tears in her eyes. I felt a little bit of sorrow for her but she had it coming. I can't keep being yelled at for being a human.

_I told you. Underwood is in her, that little cunt. Don't forget Freddy, you aren't getting any from her since Katherine came into the world._

Don't blame that on Katherine. She's a child, she doesn't know any better.

_Well then who can you blame? _

They were right. Who else could I blame for not getting advancement from Loretta; none other than the devil herself. She would always fake of a headache or she didn't want to wake Katherine. Has she ever heard of shutting the fuck up? I've done it for so long, that it's like being the wind. It's there. It's happening and yet no sound is made. Why does she have to scream when she comes? I did like in the beginning, but now it's just annoying. It's not even unbridled, more forced than anything. After a while I just ignored her screaming and moans; they meant nothing to me now. I got what I want and felt better for myself. Is that wrong?

_Anyone else would think it was. She eggs on the thought. She doesn't come when you ask. She doesn't tell you the real reasons as to why she doesn't just jump to the occasion. Why does it seem that way, Fred? You are keeping secrets from her; she may be keeping some from you._

Every time that thought comes through, my blood boils! Part of me wants to just hit her so hard until her face is nothing but pulp beneath my knuckles. Another part just doesn't care. I get what I want and I'm satisfied. I don't give a fuck that she feels sorry or hurt or whatever thought that comes to her mind. If only she knew the real pleasure that escaped through my lips when she wasn't there. I'm getting fed up with trying to get any from her. I mostly just spend my time in the shower, or in the cellar; looking over pictures of kids. Those kids give me the power and pleasure. When ever I do advance Loretta, it's just out of pity now. It's the same thing I've grown accustomed to and I know where everything is; where her spots are. There's no real adventure anymore. It's just sad, really.

_At least you get some and she just lays there like a rotten corpse. HA! Now I know the idea of lying there like a rug! That's Loretta. A piece of shit rug that you just walk over and lay on. _

He he. Hey got to admit, these voices have a sense of humor after all.

February 1968.

Big bad storm brewing inside. Can't keep hidden for long. I can't do this sporadically. Have to have more. The kids are calling me. I hear them speak my name when they walk pass. The loneliness I feel keeps growing. The power keeps growing. My cunningness of luring is growing. I feel obligated to do this. I have to submit to the demons in my head. They talk to me. They talk of fantasies that brew in their thoughts; I get so turned on at the fact. The urges are coming through full force. I'm almost at the breaking point. I don't want Loretta or Katherine to know. I can't do this to Katherine. Loretta I don't care for anymore. She's not pure. She's used, like a grocery bag. Easy to dispose of. I need to dispose of this. Where? When? How? These ideas still come through my head. I don't know if they are good enough to know. I'm up to 10 children now. Sometimes I feel that I can't control these urges. They smell so good. The taste so delectable. They are so beautiful when they are cut, gutted and displayed before me. It's art. So beautiful.

So beautiful…

The news reports are starting to fill up with missing cases of children. I try not to laugh and snicker when I see their faces posted on the TV. screen. Loretta sits there and sobs, ugh it's pathetic. Katherine just looks into the TV. She doesn't understand. Loretta doesn't understand, and I don't think she ever will. Dumb bitch.

But I do…._he he_.

March 1968.

I'm getting very paranoid now. I think I'm letting the parent's on. I keep seeing their eyes look me up and down trying to find out if I'm the one silencing the life that shines in their eyes. The narrowed eyes, the stares and whispers. It's getting too much to bear. I just want to scream at them LEAVE ME ALONE! I DIDN'T MESS WITH YOUR KID! At some points I just want to just admit. "Yeah, I'm the one who keeps taking your children. I'm the one that cuts them with my knives. I see their eyes die in front of me. I did it. I did it."

But I don't. I'll let them keep guessing.

_It's better to have some mysterious-ness about you, Fred. Makes you who you are. With several children now missing, the parents wonder if they just ran away or someone really caught up with them. Shh….I won't tell will you, Fred?._

Of course, I'll never tell.

June 1968.

They are calling the murder of children in the area the Springwood Slasher. I kinda like the ring of that. Very cunning yet to the point.

_Not a whole lot of creativity when into that. It's just right for you, Fred. You've earned it, kid!_

I feel proud to have that name. When Loretta reads me the articles about the missing children or the ones found that I didn't have the chance to run to the boiler. She gasps and does her "Oh, God above." Speech when the details are in the articles. I just continue to read the sports section and just ignore her. She wonders about me, well from what she says when she does talk to me. She's worried about the long hours I have and yet she doesn't see it when I deposit my check.

_Uh oh. We forgot about that. Think of something good. Something to throw her off._

I would tell her it's from going to the bar once in a while to have a drink. With my sweet voice I tell her that sometimes at work we get a lot to do and it's just when you had enough you need a release.

_A release. Nice one, Fred._

She goes on to believe it, I hope. That had to been one of the worse excuses I've given her since I decided to stay out. She doesn't know it thought but I'm always home. She never hears the screams, the wails that are heard in the cellar. She does hear me banging on metal as I still improve my blades. She never hears the truck start or ever leaving the driveway (that's because I put in neutral and then decide to kick it when I'm down the road a little).

_I came up with that idea. Don't make it to be that you had the idea._

I'm not. I'm just saying. She never knows about the clothes I wear that I scrub the tissue, burnt flesh and blood from my shirt and pants. She never worries about why there is a load in the dryer when she did the last load the night before. She never worries about the scratches I get on my hands and arms. She thinks it's from work.

_Well, she is right. It's from work. _

I got onto her the other night about going into the cellar. Luckily there was nothing down there but the empty plates of food and glasses half full with milk. I caught her coming up from the outside doors.

"What are you doing here, Loretta?" The burning feeling in my stomach engulfed me. I walked up to her and demanded an answer. She just looked at the ground with the dishes in her hands.

"I asked you a question, Loretta. When someone asks you a question, you are to answer it, my dear."

"I-I-went down to the cellar here to ask you if you had any dishes I needed to wash. You didn't answer so I just went down-"

"So you just went down into the cellar, even though I didn't answer? Did it occur to you that I may had been in the house and wasn't in the cellar?" I asked her cautiously.

"I'm sorry, Fred. I won't go down there again. When I call you from the outside and there is no answer, I'll know you aren't down there. I'm sorry, Fred." She said, with the fear in her words. I could hear her breath quickening.

I grabbed her forearm and squeezed tightly. She almost lost her dishes in her arms from the shock of my grasp.

"You do not go down there again. Do you hear me?" I asked her, looking dead into her eyes.

"I won't, Fred. I won't ever go down there." She looked up at me, fear radiating from her eyeballs.

"Good. Now be a good wife, and please wash those. I meant to bring them up before but you know how work can be. So sporadic."

"Of course, Fred." My demeanor changed and I kissed her cheek so lightly. Yuck, her skin takes so oily. She smiled softly and I loosened my grip. She walked back into the house, quickly to the kitchen, placing the dishes in the sink.

_You've got her where you want her Fred._

I know…..my little puppy knows not to go down there again. If she does, I'll kill her with my own bare hands.

* * *

**I know, I know. You want more. So I'll be working on chapter 8 tonight. I will let everyone know that Chapter 8 is going to be a LONG one...based on word count, maybe within the 4000s. Hope you enjoyed. Please as always rate and review. It's not going to go by the full history of the past but it will focus on the majority. Thanks guys!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Alright. It's done. 2 chapters in one day. Not too bad for someone who takes a little more time to write one chapter. Thanks guys for your reviews and adding my story to your favorite's list. It's very flattering that you like my work. I appreciate it. To everyone that has written reviews, thank you for your thoughts and encouragement from day one. To DarknessTakesOver, thanks for your input. Without it, I think that this would be a failure before a success. **

**I dedicated this chapter to you!**

**Without Further Due...**

* * *

March 1969

After hitting my 15th child, I got a call from the Sheriff's department. I was kind of skeptical about them calling me. Also I was scared shitless as to why they would call me and at a such late hour. Have they finally nailed their man? Have they figured out where all the bodies are? Did they search the boiler room?

"Can I speak with Fred Krueger, please?"

This is he.

"Mr. Krueger, I'm Lieutenant Thompson with the Springwood Police. The reason that I'm calling you at this time, and I do apologize for the lateness, but we have gotten some strange calls pertaining to you and some of the missing children. Would you be kind enough to come down to the station and answer some questions?"

_What do I do? Oh God, they found me out. Play it cool. Don't make it seem you are so guilty. Don't say No, it will make it worse._

Sure, sir. What time would you like for me to come down?

"Well we would like if we came and picked you up. Save you the trouble and gas."

I was kind of hesitant of them picking me up in a patrol car. But I had to give the impression that there was nothing going on.

_It's a scare tactic, Freddy. Don't let it get to you. They just want to answer some questions. You have put yourself in some situations that other parent's may have noticed. Just keep calm and just do you very best at lying._

"That's fine sir."

" Good. We will pick you up in 15 minutes."

Then he hung up the phone. Just a dry hang up.

What a scum bag, hanging up the phone without saying "good bye" or even "Ok. We will see you in 15." I think they already have made who the Springwood Slasher is; they just want to make sure they have the right guy.

Wait a minute….Thompson. Thompson. I recognize the last name. I think that the Lieutenant is the father of Nancy Thompson. She's a pretty little thing, Nancy. I've always liked her for some odd reason. I didn't see any reason to hurt her or even play with her pink subtleness. She's a very sweet girl. I use to see her playing with Joey, but now that he's dead, she doesn't come around much, at least when I notice. They came and picked me up but it was an eerie quietness in the car, like they already nabbed their man. The hell I wasn't going to go down without a fight. I play it nice, I played good.

The cops must have kept me for 3 hours questioning me about every child that has gone missing within the last few years. I of course played the shock card and "I've- seen- them playing- around- in- the- area- but- other- than- that- nothing- out- of- the- ordinary explanation. I didn't tell them that I grabbed them without them noticing; loaded them in the ice-cream truck that I had and took them to my boiler room at work and sometimes home in my cellar. I didn't tell them I lured the kids with candy and popsicles. I didn't tell them that I cut their stomachs and burned their bodies into the boiler. I didn't tell them that I watched their bodies shrivel up in black pieces. I didn't tell them that I played with them when they were sleeping off the chloroform. I didn't tell them I use to beat off while watching them moan in their sleep. When they decided to take a break, or in my terms come up with other ways to ask me questions to incriminate myself, I kept thinking about Laura, my next little piggy. She always wore pig-tales and a pink dress. She smelled like cotton candy too. I just wanted to eat her up she tasted so sweet. Even thinking about it is making my dick hard with pressure. I have to think of something else to get her off my mind. I need to concentrate. I thought about how to get her. I've tried popsicles, candy, and crayons. What can I think of next?

_Jesus, Freddy. You are one twisted fuck._

Thanks!

_No, I mean how can you think about Laura and what you plan on doing to her when you are sitting in an interrogation room with cold coffee? Cops are asking you questions; presenting photos of the ones you didn't dispose of correctly. _

It's natural to me, I guess. The cops can't read my mind. If they ask I can just say "oh, I'm thinking about my daughter. How she looked so cute today in her blue overalls her mother bought her. (Fucking bitch put overalls on my daughter.)

_Yeah. I guess it could work out that way since you have been smiling since they left the room._

Have I? Oh well, that little lie will go well with this one-of-a-kind smile.

_Oh! To answer your own question of how to get Laura why not use cotton candy since she smells so much of it?_

Hmm. Good idea! I just got to know how to make some. Wait! I could say I have a cotton candy machine in the cellar and want her to try some.

_Always thinking on your feet, Freddy._

Finally the Lieutenant returned with his lower- ranked officer. Why do they have to bring in two officers? It's not like it bothers me that there are two now instead of one. It seemed like they kept asking the same questions but in different forms like they were trying to incriminate myself by saying something different. They did after all have a tape recorder in the room. I had to concentrate really hard when those questions came up. They asked the same question 4 or 5 times in different forms. It really got annoying and frustrating. I still kept calm. I did very well.

Finally they let me go home. It must have been around midnight when I came into the house. I think that Laura, my next little piggy, is going to have to wait. With the cops on my ass, there's no way I can get another kill in until everything calms down. Wow….I love how the cops are so on-top of things now that 15 children are dead by my own claws. I guess our tax money is now being used wisely.

_No. It's just that you are so secretive of how you kill the children and it's not out of the blue. You picked them based on what you want out of them. If they were quiet, candy-driven, what made your pants bulge with them screaming._

I know. I can't wait to get Laura. Look at me; I'm squirming in my own chair. I think I need to head to the bathroom for a bit.

**December 1969.**

I don't know if the cops got the idea or not but I haven't been called back. I guess that I'm off the hook for now. The cops are starting to crack down though. They keep questioning the parents of the kids wondering why they would wonder off. The parents are going on and on about how they told them not to talk to strangers and if anyone was offering them something to turn and run. What they don't know is that sometimes if they do run, they don't scream. I can catch up to them and snatch them up quickly. Then the lessons their parents taught them would prove to be useless. I love proving parents wrong. They live in this so-called fantasy of oh my kid would never do that thoughts and think they are lawful and know when to run and when to stand up. What they don't know is that pressure to have something; the temptation is always there. Kids aren't strong enough to evade the temptation. I am the devil. I give them what they want and then in the end I get what I want. Their lives, then toss them into the fire so no one could ever find them.

Loretta is starting to become skittish around me. Ever since I slapped her last year, she's very distant to me. I asked her a couple of weeks ago to sit with me in the living room by the fire. She hesitated. Usually she would say "sure" or "ok" but she hesitated on her words. Part of me hurts that she would actually take the time to think about the question asked. Another part wants to hit her for even thinking about the question when she should do what she's told. Fucking bitch. She did come to sit with me but she was almost on the edge of the couch. So I went closer to her and put my arm around her. I could feel the fear coming off of her. She was shaking so bad but she clasped her hands together, trying to hide the fear. I could tell right away. Her eyes looked me over, seeing if she was really looking at her husband; the one man that she fell in love a long time ago at the diner. It was the same man, but she doesn't know the full me. She only sees what I want her to see. She's comfortable with it. Now that I've become more of myself over the past years, she's realizing that her idea of marrying me or even knowing me was an absolute mistake. Given, I do love her still but sometimes I just want to toss her out of the house and jsut deal without her for a while. She goes more to see her parents now and takes Katherine with her. I hate how she has to take Katherine everywhere. All she does is sits in a corner, playing with her dolls. Not a lot of attention from her own mother. Katherine cries now when she hears her mother saying we are goning to granny and grampys. She screams and sobs "I want to stay at home with Daddy." Her cry almost makes me want to hold her tight, letting her know it will be ok. But no...that fucking bitch keeps taking her away from me.

When ever I do get to play with Katherine we have a load of a time. She likes to run around the backyard playing tag with me. I love to see her giggle and smile wide when she tries to run away. When I catch her she giggles all the same. I can't help but giggle myself in the fun of it. I always tell her "I'm gonna get ya" and she just laughs histerically. When I do catch her, I tickle her belly and she kicks and screams and laughs. When it's time for dinner though, I gather her in my arms and she rests her head on my shoulder. She says "I love you, Daddy" when we know it's time to stop playing around. I can't feel any happier when I tell her "I love you too, Honey" and hugs me tigther around my neck. At those times I would rather die than never get to play with my own daughter. Her brown wavy hair flowing behind her when she would run. Her white baby teeth when she would giggle. She's everything to me. I would do anything for her to keep her mine. When I see Loretta standing at the door, telling us it's dinner time, my happiness turns to anger. Why did she have to ruin the time with her father? Why do I have to end this blissful joyful extention of what is called my life? I feel sometimes, that Katherine doesn't have a father and that makes me cry. I'm always working late. I'm off in the cellar or down at the boiler room at work. I don't ever spend time with her. I need to do that. I can't see her being brought up in this world without me. I don't want her to turn out the way I did. She's too pure to go through that. I love her so much. I can't wait everyday to see her wake up and have breakfast with me. I think that I'll make bacon and eggs tomorrow. She loves bacon.

**January 1970.**

Who would do such a thing? Who in their right mind would hurt her? I got a call from work today hearing Loretta talking, sounded like she was almost crying.

"What's wrong?"  
"Fred, please come home. Your daughter-"

"What about Katherine? What's wrong with my daughter?" I could hear Katherine, crying in the background.

"She got bullied at the stop sign today. She got pushed and kicked. She keeps calling for you but I try to tell her you are at work."

"Tell her Daddy is coming home."

I slammed that phone and told the Manager I had to go home due to a family emergency. I rushed home, speeding down the road so I could get home sooner. I parked and ran into the house. "Katherine?". I saw her on the couch and she can running, with tears forming in her eyes. She cried hard on my shoulder and I just held her tight. God, I felt so awful that something happened like this. To her even. Loretta was in the kitchen cooking and she just held back the tears as she saw me embrace my daughter.

"What happened, honey? You can tell daddy." I asked Katherine, cooing her to calm down.

"Daddy. Mark hit me. He pushed me. Then he kicked. It hurt so bad, daddy." She started to cry again and buried her head into my shoulder. I looked at Loretta, who was stiring what was soup in a big steel pot.

"Did anything else happen?" I asked her, with worry in my voice.

"No. That's all she said. I saw her get pushed and the boy, Mark, just kicked her and ran away. I went to talk to his parents but all they did was say that their son wouldn't do such a thing." She looked down and began to stir the soup.

"Oh really? They think that their son didn't do that huh? Are you sure that was the boy and those were his parents?"

"Yes, Fred. I know Mark when I see him. Janice and Harry are with him all the time. I just put two and two together." She started moving around the kitchen, fixing the table for dinner. I was so mad. My face was burning. Katherine moved away to feel the cool of my jacket on her face from crying. I felt like hurting all three of them; Janice, Harry and Mark.

The fucking little prick hurt my daughter.

"Honey, I've gotta go talk to Mark's parents about what he did to you ok? I'll be back in a little bit. Go color and I'll be back before you are done." Katherine looked at me as she wiped the clear snot from her dripping nose. I grabbed my hankerchief and told her to blow. It was so warm and wet. I never knew how much this kid could cry.

"Fred. Please. Don't do anything too rational."

"Of course not, dear. What would give you that impression?" I threw her a glaring look and she shuttered and looked away. I zipped my coat and walked down the sidewalk. I was about unleash the beast within.

I pounded on the door and heard steps coming through. It was Janice who opened the door. Her grey hair pulled into a bun greeted me with a smile. "Hello, Fred. How can I help you tonight?"

"Janice. I just got a call from Loretta that told me that your son, pushed and kicked my daughter Katherine. Was this true?" I asked her trying to play the concerned roll. I saw her eyes go big. She knew I knew about it and I wasn't going to let it down unlike Loretta.

"MY son didn't do anything to your daughter." I peered into the house and saw Mark ont he couch, sucking away at a piece of candy. Half of it was on his face as the television lights glowed. Such a nasty little shit.

"Well..my wife saw your son kick Katherine."

"Well your wife likes to make up quite a lot when she sees something. For all we know she could have kicked Katherine."

My eyes went wild. I calmly asked her to step outside, which she did. I grabbed her by her blouse and spoke in a quiet tone.

"Listen Janice. I have no quarral with you. Whatever you have against my wife, that's between you and her. I want to know who hurt. my. child. She has a bruise on her side which you can see without looking very close to her skin. She has been crying ever since it happened. If I find out that your piece of shit son hurt my daughter, I will make sure that you will get what is coming to you."

"Fred, I demand you to leave my property. Now."

"Not until I know you understand what I've just told you."

"Your threats are nothing to me, Mr. Krueger."

"A threat Janice. That wasn't a threat, sugar. That was a fucking promise. Now I'm taking my daughter to the hospital as soon as I get back home. If I find she has even the slightest crack in her ribs or rupture in her body. I'm coming back for your son. I want him to see what he has done to my Katherine. Then I'll make sure that you and Harry will be notified by cops pounding on your front fucking door for neglect."

I shoved her back and she almost fell backwards into the rocking chair. She stood up and clasped her shirt where I held her. She shuttered and returned into her house franticaly. I walked down the steps and headed back to the house. I pounded my boots from the snow onto the porch and came through the door. Katherine was at the table, slurping up her soup. Loretta stood up and walked over to me. "Well?"

"They are made well aware that Katherine was hurt. The advised me to take her to the hospital just in case." I said cooly, not trying to raise panic in my wife's mind. I love trying to play the one that was more adult about situations. Ha ha. Loretta nodded her head. "but, let's wait until after dinner. I'm starved." I said approaching the table. Katherine's mouth was covered in rice and liquid tomatoes, stuck to her cheeks. I could see her eyes were a little red from crying but I knew she was getting better. I sat next to her, petting her head as she took in spoonfuls of soup.

I could feel Loretta's eyes watching us like a dog. I hate that she can't even trust me around my own daughter. It's not like I would hurt her like I'm about to with Mark.

**January 1970.**

Come to find out that Katherine didn't have any cracked ribs. Just some heavy bruising. Still it infurieated me to see that a little fucking twat of a child did something to my baby. We will have to keep her at home and let the pre-school know that she will not be coming for a couple of weeks. I felt so bad for her. When we did get home from the hospital, I just rocked her in the chair by the fire. No sooner that we got home, she was asleep in my arms. I played with her hair, combing it between my fingers. I kissed her lightly on the forehead before I got up and carried her upstairs. I placed her in her bed, tucking her in with pink blankets. She smiled softly and moaned a little, scurrying in her own bed for comfort. I smiled at her and watched her sleep in the moonlight in the window. As I looked out of the house. I could see Mark's bedroom. I thoughts of my loving daughter soon vanished and was replaced with the revenge of a mad man. I walked quietly out of the bed room and walked down the stairs. Loretta was sitting on the couch watching the news. "How is she doing?"

"She's fine. Sleeping in bed now. Why would anyone want to hurt her, Loretta?" I asked, sincerely.

"I have no idea, darling. Kids these days do not know discipline anymore. If it were you or me back when we were kids, our bottoms would be red and swollen. Now they just get sent to their room or put in a corner."

"No lack of discipline, huh? It will catch up to him one of these days." The thoughts of tearing his flesh grew vivid in my mind. The blood splattering on the walls, my face, my shirt. I cooed at the thought, hoping that it will bring me and my family peace. My sweet Katherine was hurt. I would do anything for that child and I meant it. Do unto others as they do unto you. Katherine is a part of me, so it's as if he kicked me. He should be kicked too.

_Or hit, slammed, gutted, cut, shot, hung, strangled, burned. Yeah he should be "kicked"._

She's only 3 years old. What evil could a child at that age do? Mark should have known better not to hurt someone that did nothing to him. I think I need to teach him a lesson. One lesson I know he will remember.

**March 1970**

**Child found in Springwood Park.**

**By: Joe Brown**

Tuesday- Police uncovered a grisley display at the Springwood Park earlier today. Police found the battered body of 6 year old Mark Hamberg, 1944 Juniper Ave, in the sandbox under the wooden playground. He was discovered with his hands bound with rope with his body displayed in a sacriligeous formation. Police were seen walking away from the child, covering their mouths with hankercheifs. The parents of Mark, Harry and Janice Hamberg were called to the scene. Mrs. Hamberg screamed loudly her son's name as she came upon the drastice image of her son.

"Why would someone do such a thing? He was a wonderful boy!" Mr. Hamberg stated as he tried to hide the tears in his eyes. The boy's body was carried off into an ambulance to St. Patricks Hospital where he was pronouced dead by cornors. Dr. Smith will be performing an autopsy to find out the main cause of death.

Police have been called into the investigation, trying to see Mark was apart of the Springwood Slasher killings that have been happening in this small town for the past 2 and a half years. No leads have been found to end these horrific murders. No information was found regarding the autopsy of the child when questioning Mr. Smith. This Article will be updated when other information is available.

AAAAHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!  
gOOOOOOOOOOD BYYEEEEEEE YOU LITTLE SHIT! AHAHAHAHAHAHA LITTLE PIGGY WHEN TO THE SANDBOX AND FOUND SOME KNIVES TO PLAY. UNFORTUNATLY THEY WERE ATTACHED TO MY HAND. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. HA. HA. HA. HA. HA. HA. ! ...HA. ...HE. ... ...

Rot in hell you little piggy! You'll be roasted and fed to the dogs, you little cumstain. This is for my daughter!

**April 1970.**

Ah...things are a lot quieter now around here. Ever since Mark decided to get in my way, and dealt with the little ugly little shit, things are a lot better. I realllllly haven't had the urge to hurt anyone. I'm doing a lot better with Loretta now. After what she saw with me and Katherine and how I reacted when she got hurt, she has put more trust into me. Me and Katherine go out side all the time now. Since her ribs are now pretty well healed, we run around the backyard, through the rose bushes and garden. I'm having a blast with her. She keeps giggling now, laughing histerically when I would chase her. She is like her father after all. Loves to laugh.

_I guess we saw that a few months ago. I don't think we've seen you laugh so much in a long while._

Oh it has been so good now. I've cleaned up the cellar. I've hung up my blades for now, I don't feel like hurting anyone anymore. I think that the last time with Mark was really the last time. I don't have those urges. I've been cleansed. I smile now when ever I see the sky being all blue. The sun's shinning. I've read over the pages of this diary and I can't imagine the pain I've been through as I've described them here. So vivid; so laid out before me. I keep thinking if I read over the pages, would I be in the same mindset as I am in now? Nah, I couldn't have had the most incredible daughter. She's-

She keeps taking my pen away, telling me "I wanna play daddy. I wanna play tag." So I have to get up and run after her to get the pen back and hopefully can clear away my thoughts through another couple sentences before she runs and takes it from me again. Little sunshine, she is. I love her so much. She's all I ever talk about. I haven't had a drink in over a month and I don't need it anymore. She is the one that helps me through sobreity. My Katherine. My daughter. My baby girl. My honey of sunshine. She's everything to me. I love that little girl-

AAHHH!

What the? Loretta's screaming? I wonder what about?

_You know why Fred. She's been down there again._

I look and find my loving wife, walking carefully up the stairs, out of the...cellar. Holding her mouth with hand. Walking out of the cellar?

_She's in trouble now. You said it yourself, Fred._

"Fred..."

What's this rage I feel? It's burning my stomach. It's engulfing me. It's...

Oh.

Fucking.

Well...Lalalalalala **de**_ dah_.

I turned to her and looked into her eyes, almost to her soul.

"We need to talk, Loretta."

* * *

**UH OH!**

**Rate and Review as always.**

**Thanks for your reviews!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Ahh Yes! The climatic chapter we have all been waiting for. I've had this in my head ever since I started this story. It keeps playing over and over. I love how this turned out, this story. I do this every time but...thanks to everyone who has been patient and willing to read this story. It took a lot to try and come up with this idea and the fact that I kinda had to start from scratch. What came out as a meer one-shot has turned into an amazing look into the mind of "the mean man with the claws". Thank you so much. Even HeyitsKate mentioned she got her influence of Beautiful Monster (which is good) from reading this story. I appreciate that and thanks again. I do also want to thank again for all the amazing reviews and ideas you guys had as the chapters were added. Thanks for the positiveness for me to keep writing. Without you, this story would be in the dirt, buried deep where no one could find it. **

**Without further due...**

* * *

May 1970

Why couldn't she just listen to what I told her? Why did she have to make me give her, her medicine? Why? All she could do was trust me and leave it at that. I keep asking myself these questions for about a month now. I loved her so much, yet I hated her. Why do I feel this hatred?

_She disobeyed, Fred. You gave her a direct order and now she paid the price for not listening._

I didn't want it to be that way. Now that she's gone, the house is quieter. There's no nagging, annoying crying from out of the blue.

_She did you and herself a favor. She didn't want to be living with a monster and you didn't want a nagging bitching wife. It's a win-win situation._

Not really. Even though it has been over a month, I can still feel like it was 10 minutes ago.

She was shaking as I approached her. Katherine was off playing in the garden, after she heard the blood-curdling scream in the house. She was so scared standing on the last few steps before the grass. I approached her quickly then slowed my pace as I drew near her.

"Please, Fred. I won't tell"

I stared at her like knives stabbed into my eye sockets. "We need to talk Loretta." She shuttered; she knew what was going to happen.

I grabbed her arm tight; she stumbled as I pulled her up into the grass. I pulled her closer to the gazebo.

"I told you, not to go down there. Didn't I?"

She didn't answer. The tears were starting to cascade from her eyes.

"You answer me!" I said through my teeth.

I grabbed both of her arms and shook her. She gasped. "I'm sorry Fred. I won't tell anyone what is down there. I ran back up the stairs so fast it was all a blur. I didn't see anything. I swear to it. Please, Fred. I won't tell a soul."

Oh, I knew what she saw. She saw the gloves hanging from nails from my work bench. She saw the blood stained on the steel. She saw pieces of brown and pink flesh on my workbench. She saw the pictures of children that I've claimed as my own; my little piggies. She saw the newspaper clippings I saved of the Springwood Slasher. There was nothing she could say to me to reprimand what she blindly forgot not to do.

_Finish it off, Freddy. Before she decides to tell the world your secret. You'll be done for. Your ass will be rotting in prison for child molestation and murder. You will be on death row before you can even blink!_

I grabbed her arms and my grip became ever so tighter. "I told you not to go down there. Look what you do? You fucking disobeyed me. Loretta, it's time to take your medicine. Ever since Katherine came into this world, you have been bitching at me. I don't clean. I don't cook. I don't do anything in the house. Well, bitch I've done enough to support your ass and Katherine well enough to say that we are a very comfortable family. What people don't know is what you saw in that cellar. You will never tell anyone, I know that. I know that you will keep your promise, but... I don't trust you. I've never trusted you. You have always belittled me and I've corrected your outbursts, your ways of trying to be a mother to me. I had a mother, God-damnit and you aren't her! She's dead and you will be soon."

Her eyes widen. She gasped again and then I lost my control. I shook her violently, watching her head go back and forth. I keep repeating "I told you not to go in there, right?" and just watched her eyes roll back and forth from the force. Then at once I heard a crack then a pop.

Her head shrugged forward. She went limp. I stopped. I looked at her and saw her eyes were wide open, but nothing was inside those brown eyes. Her pupils when from a small dot to a large opening in her eyes. I knew that she was gone but I wanted to make sure. I shook her hard again, faster and faster. I heard a few more cracks and pops and my smile started to go firm on my face. The overbearing watching was over. No more fights. No more hitting. It was done.

Then for what seemed as a long played back movie flashed in front of my eyes. I saw how Loretta came to be. I saw her drenched in her coat walking into the diner. Her hair brown and wavy came out of her hood. I loved her then. I saw when she kissed me after our date; tongues going back and forth out of our mouths. The invigorating feeling I had when she would exchange her soul with mine. I wanted her then. The way she cried for joy when I proposed to her. The way she looked in her white dress with the veil draped over her face. The moment I moved her veil when we were pronounced husband and wife. I had her forever. The unexplained rapture of seeing my daughter, covered in blood and placenta, wrapped in a pink blanket. Loretta holding her as she sobbed quietly over pure beauty. I gave thanks to her. The constant nagging, bickering over small things. The lured looks of betrayal and worry, holding Katherine like a lost puppy never to be let go. She was annoying. The way she would talk down to me, telling me I need to be more of a man speech or my favorite, be a better father. I hated her. The mood swings of hurt, crying, wailing. The constant calls at work and staying up at night just to make sure I didn't come home with someone else. I pity her. When she found my little room, full of knives and metal. How she lied to me when she tried to get the dishes. I wanted her dead. The final time I saw her, shaking as she tried to hold herself up with the railing. That will be my final memory of Loretta Krueger, shaking, looking into the eyes of a murderer; the answer of death as she stared into my eyes.

I feel so much at peace now. I grunted still, shaking her as she went limp at her legs, almost dragging her knees on the ground. I held her up with my strength and shook her wildly.

"DADDY!"

I stopped. I turned to see Katherine returning from the house. She had tears in her eyes, crying softly. I heard her labored breathing as she tried to sneak in a few breaths before continuing crying. Did she come from the cellar? Did she know my secret too? I dropped Loretta to the ground. Her body a mangled doll fell in a jagged position. I rubbed my nose from the snot that dangled from it. I could tell she knew something that she should not. How can this be? She did go into that cellar and saw my dark secret, the one thing I would never want her to know?

_Time to take her medicine too! She went down there, Freddy. She saw everything._

No! Not my little Katherine. She didn't come from there. She fell and got scared and came running to find me. She didn't walk down into the cellar and see all that evil. My little Katherine. My baby, she didn't go down there.

_Fred, she did so. You know it as well as we do. She went down there and saw the beauty of it all. The racks, the clothes strewn on the floor, covered in blood and sugar from candies. She has to take her medicine._

I can't do this to her. She's only 4 years old. She didn't know any better. She's only a child.

_And what were the others that you killed? Weren't they children too? They tried to talk, but you gave them medicine to hush. She's the same thing._

No! She's my child. Not anyone Else's. I decide whether she lives or dies. I decided her decisions. She's much too young to know not to go in there. She never knew.

_That's not what you said about Leslie. She was only 4 when you got her. She was sneaking into your truck, trying to steal the candy that you had for the children. Does that qualify Katherine the same as Leslie._

Katherine is my daughter. I don't give a shit less about Leslie or Mark, Wendy, Sarah, John, Carolyn, Patrick, Janet, Misty, Shelly, Randall, Christopher, Buddy, Willy or Mackenzie. They were my play things then with everything else I disposed of them. Let me handle this on my own. I love her. She's me; she's apart of my heart. Killing her will only kill me. Where would you be then?

(_silence)_

I knew I had a point that you would shut up when I said it. Idiot.

What do I do? I can't sit here and hurt her like I did that bitch. She's my life. She's a part of me. She brings joy in my life. The one that I haven't fucked up in my life is her. She's so perfect. Katherine, my beloved. I love her so much. I could never put her through this much pain, so much torture. It would only make me less of a man that what I was before. A God can chose whether to let live or let die. She's my daughter, and I choose her to live. She looked over and saw her mother laying on the ground and soon more tears leap from her eyes. Her mournful face ached my heart. She doesn't understand though. She will never hear the constant struggle I have everyday of wondering when that putrid whore would die or when she would give up and let me consume her. She won't hear the voices in my head, urging me to hurt her. She won't feel the heartache that I have when I know that Loretta is gone. She won't feel the pure relief of seeing Loretta lifeless in a little coffin. She won't understand why mommy had to leave even though I would think of many reasons as to why. She's so young, full of life and yet so much ignorance as to why things end up the way they do. I hope that when she does grow up she will never feel what I feel or know the reasons as to why I do the things that I do.

"Don't worry honey," I said to her, cooing as I approached her, "mommy just taking her medicine for meddling in daddy's special work." I bent down to her and saw her trying to hold back sob after sob. I smiled down at her and wiped her tears away. The more I tried to dry her eyes, the more tears fell.

"But you won't tell… will you?" I asked her, raising my eyebrows at her. She sucked her snot into her throat and opened her mouth, trying to grasp the words.

"I won't tell," she replied holding back the soft coughs.

I smiled at her, welcoming her into my arms. I could feel her chin digging into my shoulder. I knew she was looking at her mother. It was hard to see her looking at her dead beat of a mother, lying in the backyard. I walked her into the house, walked up the stairs to her bedroom. She lay on the bed, tucking her knees into her chest.

"Daddy, will you come lay with me?" she asked moving over to one side of her toddler bed.

I looked down at her and smiled. I nodded and took my place next to her. She laid her head onto my chest. Her breathing was erratic from crying, so I shushed her, playing with her brown waves. Soon after she was asleep, breathing calmly and softly. I kept looking at her head, as I continued to play with her hair. Her response in the backyard kept playing in my head over and over. I soon succumbed to the lingering falling eyes as I took fell asleep, hearing her words.

"I won't tell." "I won't tell."

She better not.

* * *

August 1970.

I'm still getting cards for sympathy over Loretta's death. They thing it was all a accident when she fell from the stairs to her death. Luckily the grip I had on her didn't leave any bruising. That's the only thing I'll thank God for. I got one even from the Hambergs. Those little shits. They wrote a small note, regarding the death of Loretta saying that now Mark can be watched over and they know that Loretta will be a great angel for him. Bullshit. I can't believe they are trying to wipe up what happened with their son and Katherine. What hypocrites! Things are a little different now. Katherine is fine of course, being herself playing with dolls and tea sets. She does ask once in a while where mommy is. I tell her that she's in Heaven watching over you, making sure you brush your teeth and eat your vegetables. She would give me this icky face. She hates vegetables and she isn't the only one. She's moving along well in school, learning her ABC's and reading.

One thing that has taken for a wrong turn is the constant lurking policemen, watching me when I take my girl to the park. Usually where ever I sit, on a bench or in the swing set, they are watching me. They are keeping close eyes from their fancy cars. They try not to look so obvious but it doesn't matter. I know they are looking at me. I know they think I'm hiding something. When I went to that questioning at the station, I knew they had their man. I really didn't have to play such a keen role. I just kept to myself, tried not to show any type of weakness in their eyes. I was glad that I wasn't nabbed right there in the interrogation room. I think it's funny when Thompson just gave up and let me go home. They never called so I just figured they forgot about it. No...I should have known Thompson was a little brighter than that. He has his goons watching me, watching the house. Hell, they may have even tapped my phone just to monitor my phone calls! I don't care really. I've done most of my damage anyways. I hope to get started soon, gathering my little piggies. The police still haven't found anything though. The reason I think they are after me is because of Loretta's "untimely" death at home. The more I think about it, I should have thought it through a little more, not giving so much away for everyone else. I did place the 911 call and put on the tears and sobs as they wheeled her out on the gurney with the white sheet over her face. What they didn't know is I dragged her in and dropped her at the bottom of the stairs. I smashed some of her mother's porcelain tea cups to make it like she fell carrying them down the stairs. It worked to say the least. They tried to talk to Katherine though. Just like a little girl, she kept her mouth shut and cried. I love her so much. The cops though gave me that look. You know the look of "I know what happened here and you will get what's coming to you"? It won't happen. They can do whatever they want to me and they won't get shit out of me. They can interrogate my daughter but who knows what a four year old would say? Their imaginations run wild and could make up anything as an elephant came into the house and pushed mommy when all he wanted was peanuts in the cabinet.

Speaking of which, I need to run to the store.

October 1970.

ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS? THEY CAME INTO MY HOUSE AND RAIDED IT. SUPPOSEDLY THEY HAD A SEARCH WARRANT. THEY FOUND THEM. THEY FOUND THE FUCKING GLOVES IN THE CELLAR. I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN TO HIDE THOSE AWAY. ACTUALLY I SHOULD HAVE STOPPED. I HAD COMPLETED EVERYTHING I NEEDED TO DO. EVERYTHING WAS GOING GREAT NOW ITS SHIT AGAIN. THEY CAME AND ARRESTED ME FOR FUCK'S SAKE! I'M GOING TO DIE IN THE GAS CHAMBER. THEY WILL CHEW ME UP AND SPIT ME OUT IN TO A 6X6 CELL. I'M WORMS MEAT FOR THE OTHER FUCKS IN THAT HOLE. MY ASS WILL BE BLEEDING AND TORN FROM THE CONSTANT SHIT THAT I'LL HAVE TO EN DOUR. THEY TORE EVERYTHING APART, THE CABINETS, THE CHAIRS, BROKEN GLASS. EVERYTHING THAT I WORKED FOR HAS BEEN DEMOLISHED! KATHERINE'S TOY'S WERE RIPPED APART STREWING COTTON EVERYWHERE IN HER BEDROOM. HER BED WAS RIPPED APART WITH HER SHEETS JUST BARELY HANGING ON TO THE MATTRESS. MY HOME HAS BEEN BROKEN. THOSE ASSHOLES IN BLUE FELT THAT IT WOULD FEEL BETTER TO PULL APART EVERYTHING I'VE EARNED AND PAID FOR WITH MY WORKING MONEY JUST SO THEY CAN HAVE THEIR REVENGE! I WAS CHARGED WITH CHILD MOLESTATION AND MURDER!

_Told you so!_

SHUT UP! YOU FUCKING VOICES HAVE DONE NOTHING FOR ME. YOU'VE MADE MY LIFE A LIVING HELL AND I HAVE TO PAY FOR THE CRAP YOU DECIDED TO INFLUENCE ME WITH. SOON THEY WILL FIND OUT ABOUT MY SECRET PLACE AND FIND THE BONE FRAGMENTS THAT DIDN'T BURN. THEY WILL FIND THE ASHES STILL IN THAT SAME BOILER. I'M RUINED. MY WHOLE PURPOSE OF MAKING MYSELF A GOD IS GONE. I'M A BEGGAR NOW, WAITING FOR THE HATCHED TO BE BROUGHT DOWN UPON MY NECK. I'M ONLY 35 YEARS OLD. I STILL HAVE THINGS TO DO. I GUESS WHAT HAPPENED IS THAT FUCKING GIRL, LESLIE, WAS FOUND AND TAKEN TO THE HOSPITAL. SHE SURVIVED. .SURVIVED. SHE RAN HER MOUTH, LIKE I DIDN'T WANT ANY OF THOSE CHILDREN DOING AND RATTED ME OUT. SHE SAID MY FULL NAME. SHE TOLD THEM ABOUT THE SECRET PLACE, ME PLAYING WITH HER SECRETS SHE PLAYING WITH MINE. ME TAKING ADVANCES OF TRYING TO TAKE HER INNOCENCE. THE COPS SAID THAT I RAPED HER. I DID NO SUCH THING. I JUST PLAYED, I DIDN'T CAUSE ANY DAMAGE TO HER. OH WHEN I FIND HER SHE WILL BE DEAD SURE ENOUGH. SHE WILL BE RIPPED INTO MILLIONS OF PIECES SO NO ONE CAN EVER FIND HER. I WANT TO RING HER NECK, MAKE SURE I GET THOSE VOCAL CHORDS AND MAKE SURE THAT SHE WONT BE ABLE TO SING AGAIN. I'LL SNAP THEM IN TO AND BREAK THEM APART IN HER THROAT.

OK. Before I get too carried away. The cops came and arrested me, tore my house apart and held me until they interrogated me. They were relentless this time. I still kept my guard up and told them nothing happened. I told them are you really going to believe that little girl said I did all those things to her.

"We know what you did, you bastard. You hurt that child."

Correction. I never did hurt her. I only wanted her innocence and she didn't want to give it up herself. So I helped.

"You are going to rot in Hell, Krueger. I hope that one day when you die, I will be the one to piss on your gravestone."

I'm already in Hell, and I'm the one who runs the place! You are all pawns in my big game. You watch where you go and I'll be coming after you and your children.

Of course all of this was in my head. I did spend the night in jail though. My trial is in 3 weeks. That will be November. Here's another thing I forgot to mention.

They. Took. Her. Away. From. Me.

Those bastards turned her over to Child Protection Services. They won't tell me where they have her. I fear for her life. I can't imagine going through all of this without her. She's my life. I love her so. Why must they take her away? I'm at home. I'm not in a jail cell anymore. They should bring her back to me. The only thing I have left of her is her heartbreaking goodbye. God, even tears flow through my eyes when I see her face. I want to hold her again. I want to tell her that I love her and that everything will be ok. I want to tell her that I'll see her again. We were suppose to go the park and play tag. Why? I feel so empty. I feel battered and left with a shell of skin and bone. I have no soul. I have no heart. Where is my Katherine? Where's my baby? I asked them and they still won't tell me. They say that I'm an endangerment to her. How can I be an endangerment to her? I have not done a thing to that child. She's my blood. Why would I tamper with something to perfect? God, I just want to hold her. Just sitting her holding her clothes and toys are nothing compared. These tears won't stop flowing. My heart aches in my chest. She's my lifeline, Katherine. Please have her come home. She's cold. She misses me. i want to wipe her tears away. She's my one and only. Please don't take away the part of me that still wishes to be a man; a father. Why does this hurt so?

_It's call heartache, Fred. She's gone and she's not coming back._

I won't believe your lies! She will come back. They will say they made a mistake and let me go on with my life. They will bring me back Katherine. I miss her so. I want to write to her telling her daddy is at home, he's OK. He's not hurt. I want to tell her that I miss her. I want to hold her, read her stories of dragons and princesses. I want to eat dinner with her and watch her try to eat broccoli...ha ha, she's so adorable when she doesn't want to eat the broccoli stalks.

Oh! this pain.

She will be back. I know she will. They will give me back my Katherine.

* * *

OK. There's another chapter for you Kruegerites! Sorry it ends on such a sour note, but I wanted to get emphasis on Freddy's thoughts on Katherine being taken from him. Please let me know how you feel on this. Does this change your thoughts on Freddy before he is brought back into the world? Put yourself in Freddy's mind and think of all the emotion that is conjuring in his mind.


	10. Chapter 10

**Alright! Here's chapter 10. This is just a little waiting period as we get to see how the trial turns out. I've been working hard to figure out an idea of how to go with this. Thanks for everyone's reviews on chapters 7, 8 and 9. Those came out of no where and fast, lol. I'm going to hold off a bit after the holiday before I add any more chapters. I've got a lot on my plate now and I'm going through some life-changing things right now. I just hope after a while I'll be able to get back to doing this everyday. Oh, I can't wait! As always everyone please rate and review. I've seen that this story has been added to several people's favorite's list. If you do that, please let me know what you think of the story. Yeah, I get the idea when you add it to your favorite's but still...enlighten me. **

**Without further due...**

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December 1970

It's so quiet here. There's nothing here. I'm so use to hearing Katherine giggling while she played with her stuffed animals, waiting for me or the bitch to get up and make breakfast. Now…I hear the water dripping from the leaky faucet that I said I would fix nearly a year ago. I hear the wind rustling on the roof, hitting the shingles. Sometimes I can feel the wind through the windows. It's that quiet. I can't stand it. It's enough for me to go sane, since some consider me to be insane.

The papers found out about the whole deal with the charges of 15 counts of 1st degree murder and the appearing court date of my trial. I'm not sorry for what I've done though, the only thing I'm sorry for is that I couldn't keep Katherine with me while I did what I needed to do. It's a habit, an addiction. You want that rush, that adrenaline that bursts through your entire body. It's like you are re-born again. You are doing something that is not typical and it's exhilarating. I want to have the feeling all the time. I keep trying to contain my urges so that they won't find me out at night, snatching kiddies and killing them. They know all my secret places. I have to have a fucking police officer watching my house so that the angry parents of the ones I've killed won't come and destroy me or the house. The whole atmosphere is full of anger; I kind of like it. It's very energizing. But I can't do what I want to do. It just festers in me and buries deep. After a while I have to hit something. Usually it's me or the walls. I've got a few holes still I need to patch. I have to ask permission to go to the hardware or the grocery store. I have to have an escort come with me to watch me as I shop or fix something in my house. They do random tours of my house, trying to pick out any abnormalities that I've done since they did their tour not only an hour ago. NOTHING HAS FUCKING CHANGED YOU PIG! I wish they would just leave me alone, let me go and live my fucking life. I'm getting sick and tired of watching a cop burst into my house, unwelcome and watch me for a minute while backup comes to watch me as he tours my home. It feels so hurtful. I've even mentioned it to them but they just turn their noses at me and say "I fucking deserve to go to the chair," or "If I didn't care about my own life or my job, my ass would be hanging from the trees and gutted like a deer." Sounds interesting to me. How would it look to see someone strung up with a noose around their neck? How would the slice from their neck to their secret places look like? Jagged or smooth? Ripped or clean? Would the entrails fall without any give? Would I have to unravel the intestine to get everything else to fall out freely? So many questions that I can't ever find out. It repeats in my head every night when I go to bed. I WANT TO SEE IT! I WANT TO DO IT!

I'm really surprised they haven't found this journal though. Well they haven't checked the floorboards to see if one is loose. They just walk through and look through the most obvious places; dresser drawers, kitchen, behind the toilet, inside the toilet. Yet they can't see that I've hidden this underneath their noses.

I still haven't seen Katherine. I keep asking and asking but they still keep silent. I'm getting really annoyed they won't tell me anything. I'm her father for Christ sakes. I have a right to know if my daughter is ok. Why won't they just tell me that she's alive? I'm OK with that answer. I miss holding her so. Even thinking about her makes my heart beat so lightly and softly. It hurts to breathe when I know that my baby girl is out there somewhere. Is this a way of torturing me since I took their children? No, that's not how it works. I take the other kiddies away; they don't take my child away from me. They will be paying the price for taking the one thing in my life that made me a sane man. Now, I'm the bastard son of a hundred maniacs. My daddies would be proud of me of how their son, the Springwood Slasher has proven them wrong. That I outlived them and became a God; I decide whether a little slime ball of a child should live or die. I decide how they should die; quick or slow. I so prefer the slow approach. I love watching them squirm and cry. The screams are priceless, music to my ears. I may start with those pigs in blue so that I can get a little kick out of it. Ha! Would be funny to see them together, strewn naked with their bowls hanging out of them. That could hold me for a few months. This time though so that I can at least control it, I guess, I would take pictures of it, admiring every night when I go to bed that I did the best for them. At least this world doesn't have to put up with some dumb fucks.

My court date is approaching soon. The trial, the evidence, the parents will all be in attendance. My lawyer doesn't even want to talk to me. He already knows I'm guilty and he's DEFENDING ME! Did I really dig myself a hole I can't get out of?

February 1971

My lawyer is a genius! A REAL FUCKING GENIUS! He found a technicality that the pigs forgot to mention. When you are doing a search of someone's property, the person should be given a notice of a search and seizure. They didn't produce one at all. This is my one ticket to getting out and supposedly lives a decent life. I really don't need all of that. I just want out so I can continue my work. I want to help the children, ridding them because they fucking over-populate everything. They never sleep. All they do is screaming and yell just so they can get attention. If I could I would rip out the vocal cords in every child on the block so I could have some peace and quiet. Well, since I've kind of started that trend and had to stop suddenly, the parents now throw egg shells and tomatoes at my house. They cops don't do a damn thing to stop them. They just sit in their cars, eating dinner or trying to listen to the radio. I did catch one of them reading a playboy magazine and watching them getting off. The whole car was rocking back and forth, right and left. He has a funny face when he comes. It all shrivels up and he bites his lower lip, squeezing his eyes shut, then heaves and pants as he put so much into doing the job right. Seems like that's the only job he can really do. The lawyer stops by now a little, just to give me some updates on the case. I haven't been called in yet. Well that's not entirely true.

I did show up at the court house and sat on the defense side. All of the jurors were eying me. Almost like a dead on stare. Their eyes were big and pupils were small and pointy. It kind of freaked me out a little, but it was attention. I wanted it. I craved it. I haven't had this much attention in a long time, the fear soon dissipated. The lawyer presented the evidence of a lack of a search warrant. He went on to say that there was no solid evidence or record of ever appearing with the search warrant just a ravenous rampage. He is pretty good at describing things. I wonder why he chose to be a lawyer than a writer. I guess not enough money to pay on his fancy looking imported car. He always brings that thing by the house to pick me up in. Great! Just give me more attention on the streets so that I'll show up to the court house dead before I can even be freed. I feel so uncomfortable in that car. He keeps looking at me, trying to figure out why I did what I did. I think he's a fag though. He has always nice suits, colorful suits. Either it's a blue blazer and a white shirt with a blue tie. Or black suits with a blood red tie. He almost got fired from that little thing. They jurors thought it was uncomfortable that a lawyer was even representing me, for one, and two the colors reminded them of death and the murders that I've been convicted for. He keeps looking at me like he's checking me out all over. Yeah I've had a few bouts with some weight issues but I'm just really lean. I have muscle but I don't need to show it for all to see. Loretta did like my body, she loved to play with my stomach a lot and the hair that trailed down to my cock. That bitch was more of a nympho that what I could ever be. She constantly wanted it but I kept turning her down. With failure after failure she decided not to go after me. I think that saved me from having a heart attack with constantly fucking her, trying to make her cum. It was difficult at times. Yeah, I would do what every husband would; back rubs, sensual oils and eating her out. But after a while it got boring. So I just basically got off without waiting for her to. Fucking bitch.

Anyway...when I got there, there were so many people with cameras, voice recorders trying to ask me a dozen questions when I just put one leg outside of the car. Of course, my lawyer tried to shoo them away, but it just made it even more chaotic. There were parents out there, screaming "burn Freddy, burn" "I'll be the one to pull the switch" "you are gonna rot you child murder". I just shrugged it off. They are just words anyways. They really don't know me or what I've gone through in just a mere 30+ years of my life. Everyone gets like that when someone commits a crime. They will be screaming obscenities, picketing, everything you can think of within just a 30 second time period just moving from the car to the front doors. We went in and it was pretty quiet, heard whispering as I entered the court room of course. The other lawyer decided to kick things off by telling me that I'm a pervert and that I am a sick minded individual. I took it as a compliment really on the sick-minded individual. Who the hell is gonna defend me anyways? They took my daughter from me so I'll let them call me all the names in the world. What they don't know is that, I've got a plan.

We sat down, heard the judge come in. Those robes make the slimmest person look so bloated, like a water-down prune. He sat down and called the next case; Springwood vs. Frederick Charles Krueger. The lawyers bickered back and forth, objection after objection. I just sat there and thought of Katherine. I wondered if she was getting enough to eat, enough toys to play with. I want to visit her but with this going on, my lawyer thought it would be best not to have her be chastised as well or be introduced into this whole thing at a young age. Bullshit. He just doesn't want me to hold my child because he thinks I would hurt her too. I've never done a thing to her. I love that little girl. She's my blood. Like I said before, they are words to him. He can't feel what it's like to have a child taken from you and you can't find out if she's even alive and well. The little faggot couldn't be capable of a child since his ass would be plugged with the nearest dick in the neighborhood.

I just wanted to go home is all. I just wanted to have dinner and go to bed. I've had enough times of seeing people look at me and scream. I want to make them scream for a reason, not this. This was just a fluke that I screwed up. If I planned it better, no one would be screaming at me. They would be screaming for me to stop hurting them or cutting them with my blades.

When we finally left the courtroom after a horrible 8 hour drag, I came out and was bombarded with the same people again. Somebody got an idea in their head to throw something at me. A glass bottle. They had enough force behind it so when I felt it hit my head, I saw the stars come before my eyes. I kinda collapsed, according to my lawyer, into his shoulder and he saw the blood starting to drip from my hair. Everyone panicked of course and then I just don't really remember anything after that. I did wake up in my bedroom with a letter, stating that I would no longer be needed at the court room due to the fact of the incident with the glass bottle. Oh well, they didn't get their guy after all. He didn't die outside the courtroom doors. It's going to take a lot more than that to knock me down for good. So I just sit at home, watch mind-numbing television about the case and the updates every other fucking hour. I guess this is my life now. Stuck in a rut where I can't leave or even see my daughter. It's like I'm 15 again, stuck in a dark room, with only me to play with.

March 1971

Well...the case has taken a turn. The police wasn't able to produce a copy or the order for the search warrant to be placed at home or even at work. They just barged into the house and at work in the middle of the night. How nice. The pigs aren't going to pay the damages that happened when they decided to ravage my home where I've actually came accustomed to with my daughter. Luckily they haven't said anything about Loretta disappearing since she's still listed as a missing person. HA HA! Fucking idiots.

_I think you got that pretty well covered, Fred._

I know I do and I'm pretty proud of that. What to do now? I still sit at home, watching myself getting fatter with stuffing my mouth with food just because I'm bored. I can't go outside for the bottle incident. I did get 4 stitches in my head for that little toss up. But yeah, sitting in your own home for a month with nothing to do, I'm about to scream my head off so that maybe I'll go deaf. The cop is still out there, unfortunately. He still comes in the house, still to "check" on me. What in the hell am I gonna do? The only thing I can see as a difference in my routine at home is hanging myself from the barrister. But that would just be pointless because who would carry out my duty? I've read through this journal about 200 times already and I can't stop laughing when I met up with Jamie, Mark and Loretta. I laugh until my stomach hurts. It's so good to laugh sometimes with this shit going on. The lawyer said that with the fact that the cops didn't have a record fo a search warrant, it may just end there and I'll get out with no time in the slammer. Could it be that I can actually live a life? I don't know but I'm pray that I can just live a regular life; no strikes on my record or anything. I could get Katherine back. I just see it now. She's getting out the back of a cop car and just running to me with open arms. I can feel her pressure on my chest when I pick her up and cover her with kisses. I can hear her crying and being so happy to see me. I can hear her calling me daddy. It's an never ending echo I have in my head. I hear it when I'm sleeping. I dream of her, crying in a dark room screaming my name, telling me she wants to come home. It still brings a tear to my eye. God, I want her back! I hate that she's living in someone else's house or in the orphanage. She only a baby. She needs her daddy. Bring her back to me you fucking assholes! She's mine, my blood, my body and soul. You have no right to rip her away from me and for her to deal with her childhood without a father. Please, I just want her back. If I can't just let me see her, let me hug her and tell her that I love her. Please. Please. Please.

...You know, I don't think it will ever happen. I've lost her. Now I've got to figure out a way to get her back. Where do I start? Killing the people that she's living with? Yeah, it would be something out of the way but these people who have taken my daughter in do not know what has happened, hopefully. I imagine they are trying their best at this difficult moment. I just want to take her away, far away like Peter Pan and Wendy. I want to fly her to Neverland and have her spend her days having the joy of seeing her father and eating candy that won't rot her teeth. I want her to smile at me and giggle again. I want to hear myself laugh again. Why?

I can't do this...it-it hurts too much.

June 1971

This trial has gone on long enough. They got their evidence that they screwed up. Why does it take more than a month to figure out that reasoning? Why does it take 9 stupid asses to come up with a decision that takes only 15 seconds? How come that I have to STILL SIT HERE...BORED OUT OF MY FUCKING HEAD, LISTENING TO VOICES TRY TO CONVINCE ME THAT SHE'S GONE AND NEVER COMING BACK?

I'm losing my mind. My head hurts. I don't want to be here anymore. I want to be out in the air. Why the fucking hell do I have to sit on my ass when I could be doing something productive?

_What killing another child?_

Well...yeah true but I want to mow my lawn, tend the garden, clean up the bushes, paint the house. ANYTHING TO GET ME OUT OF THIS FUCKING PLACE. I feel the walls are closing in; they've moved. I know they have. They are moving everyday when I'm sleeping. When I wake up and head downstairs, they've moved closer into the house. With all this anger, sadness I would imagine that the walls would just explode with the pressure I have on me and what's around me. I want them to get on with the fucking result of the fucking trial so I can either chose to kill myself or to live my life.

You know...I think they want me to kill myself, just so that there was some sort of "justice". How can there be justice when the one who cause the chaos, is dead? Who is going to carry out the justice? Their kids aren't coming back. I'll be with them. I'll be playing with them, fucking them, killing them day in and day out. I would have won in that battle rather them winning. I would have myself a bonus because I could chose from fifteen different children. FIFTEEN! If only I could see Jamie, that would be a great pleasure for me. I would imagine she's around fifteen...almost there child. I know where she lives, I know where she goes. I see her all the time walking on the sidewalk across the road. She keeps looking at the house, remembering all the good times we had playing. I still remember them too, then I have to run to the bathroom. I think that there is helping me deal with the closing walls. I think of Jamie and that body of hers when she was just ten. I can't wait to get out again. She's close to the age where consent is not needed. I'm ready to go. I'm so anxious to see her again.

_Now, now, Fred-_

SHUT UP! I've had enough of the talking, the whispering. I'm ready to get her and I'm bringing her home. If I can't have Katherine here, fine! I'll have Jamie and she'll be my wife/daughter/friend/sister...whatever the fuck I want her to be. She's my whore. I broke her. I have her innocence. I still smell it on my fingers. I taste it on my tongue. I feel her tightness on my cock. She's waiting for me. Don't fucking talk to me anymore. Your countless lies are about to make me shoot my fucking forehead off so I won't have to hear it anymore or just rip my ears off from my head. Shut the fuck up and let me have my life.

_Too late. You're life is over. You killed your own wife. You have no job, hardly any money and your precious Katherine has been taken from you. Read the fucking signs, Fred. You are nothing again. Just that little red hair piece of shit in the basement with the bruises on your body. _

(sighs)

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**!**

**What's gonna happen this time? Stay tuned for more, Kruegerites! I'm not done yet! There's still plenty in store before this story comes to an end. Keep checking for posts and your e-mails if you have subscribed to the story!**


	11. Chapter 11

**All right, Kruegerites! Chapter 11 is finally up. I do apologize for the lateness but I've been doing a lot of studying. I'm going to be enlisting in the U.S. Navy sometime in spring and I need to focus more on my endurance, strength and studying for the ASVAB. I really don't want to get in trouble for this story so I'm going to be posting my disclaimer on this chapter. I should have done it on the first chapter but I can't seem to put it on the first chapter, idk. So this chapter is going to be a little shorter since it's going to sum up some things within the last few chapters. But hopefully you will enjoy. Here's the disclaimer: **

**The stories and poems which Mysticwryter has written and posted here on are for entertainment purposes only. Mysticwryter does not claim any characters that other authors or story writers have created. The only rights Mysticwryter has to any characters is if Mysticwryter created them. Stories written by Mysticwryter are for fun, entertainment and creative outlooks. Mysticwryter does not own Harry Potter, A Nightmare on Elm Street, Girl Interrupted, Dark Knight/Batman Begins, Silence of the Lambs/Hannibal or any other works that have been published. **

**I also have the same script on my profile. So at least all my boundaries are covered. Ok..without further due...  
**

September 1971

Well….the lawyer said that I am going to get the entire charges drop due to a technicality, as he calls it. Basically what happened is that the stupid pigs forgot to get a search warrant signed by a judge. Without that being signed, what they did was illegal. Now if only they could be caught for the other crap they do: beating up people from doing nothing but asking a question, being smart-asses at patrol stops just because someone had a tail light out. With this though, I'm glad I'm being let off. They all know I'm guilty, but they just don't realize that Springwood Police are absolute retards when it comes to protocol or even following the law. That's interesting: Pigs who don't uphold the law. How Ironic in this situation! So…anyways. The lawyer said I don't need to sit in the house anymore since they have uplifted the house arrest thing. I don't have any freaking police outside my house trying to keep an eye on me. So now I just have an empty house. Don't even get me started on Katherine. She's still in the orphanage. I can't write her or anything, if I do they will put me in jail for parole violation. How come I am on parole when all of these charges have been dropped? I asked the same question to the lawyer and he even didn't have a straight answer for me. Goes to show you that going to Harvard won't give you every answer. I still miss her a lot but I've come accustomed to the quiet of the house. At night I can hear the walls breathing. Yes! Wall can breathe. The creek, shift and pop every once in a while. It's comfortable really.

All the stuff in the basement is gone since they police took everything, but that doesn't mean I can't still make new ones. Those stupid little knives were only prototypes, which now I can work on better functions of the glove. Better materials since I'm now doing it from work. They did give me the job back, but it was soon changed. I came in and started to work on attendance and doing my regular thing. Everyone kept looking at me, giving me huffy looks. They were whispering at me, "Look at him trying to come back in to work, fucking bastard." There's that name again. Bastard. I just shrug it off, still doing my job. When I was on my lunch break though, no one sat at the table I sat at. They would look at me while I ate, sneering gestures and middle fingers populated the mess hall. When I went to throw my lunch bag away, one of the guys stopped me. "You know, it doesn't matter if it was a technicality, you still killed those children for your sick minded games. You won't be walking away for long." He looked behind me and I turned to find 3 other men standing all around me. I was a little bit frightened but it excited me. My blood pumped through my veins like a bass drum. The anticipation of what's next kept flowing in my head. One of the guys grabbed me while the other one took a hit to my face. I went down onto the ground and they started throwing punches at my face, kicking my sides and back. "Fucking ass hole. You are going to be dead the next time I see you!" I just curled myself up and let them kick me some more. The guy who did approach me was none other than Jamie's dad, Howard. He didn't know what I had planned for him. The pure ecstasy of revenge doesn't leave a bad tasted in your mouth. The big boss walked in and stopped the fight. He helped me up, which I could tell by his hesitation he would rather let them continue to beat my ass than anything, and walked with me to his office. He realized that with everything going it, it would be better for me to pick up another position for the safety and well-being of myself. Well-being? I think that I've gone passed that point. I almost laughed when he mentioned those words. So, I work in the basement now, recording temperatures of the furnaces and everything. I still get the same pay so it's not too bad. Sucks I can't sit there and yell at someone to do their job, but it does have a relaxing atmosphere. I hear the pipes hiss and pop, just like at home. I have table lamps set up at the workstation, leather stool to sit on, reclining chair and a small TV for breaks. No one really comes to check on me anymore. The big boss did for only a week then after no one comes down. Oh well, at least I'm at home here.

I have started to work on my other project since I'm not supervised. I saw some leather gloves that were stashed away in a broom closet, tried them on and then started to see that these gloves were durable and can take a lot of weight. After work, I go to the workbench and bend and cut metal, shaping them on a steel wool wheel, sharpening and watching them shine. How pretty they look. My babies, they will do so well for me. Like I said before, everyone can kick, punch or do whatever to me. What they don't realize that something is up their alley that's going to bite them in the ass.

October 1971

I've finally got 4 blades finished. I used one of them last night. I didn't know how pristine they would look with that sheer crimson sprayed on them.

I took a day off yesterday and decided to come up with a game plan to win back Jamie. I did see her at the grocery store, and I decide to say hi to her. She has read the articles about me and the incriminating evidence that was found at the house, but she still said hi to me. It really turned me on that she was able to look at evil in the face and not budge. I kept with the small talk of how she was and how school is. She responded back, calmly and with a small smile. She looked so beautiful now a days being fifteen. She said she's been working a project with Karen down the street, trying to build a Rube Goldberg to raise a metal and drop it on an egg. Sound a little strange to be but I still nodded my head. I asked her if she needed any help on the project. That's when I noticed she was terrified. Her eyes fluctuated and she paused at her answer. She said, no, of course, and said it should be ok to get everything working. I told her if she needed any supplies from work as in metal or string, she can let me know. She smiled, her little lips quivering a little, and said her goodbye. She looked adorable in her little poncho and her hair all pulled up in a bun. She almost looked like Loretta when she was young. MMM. I would love to see everything else she has since she's grown into a beautiful teenager.

I went home that night and thought of a plan to figure out how to get Jamie alone with me. I was in the bathroom for 2 hours thinking about her until my whole body was numb and sore. I had to think of something quick. I bought home some clorophorm, a clean rag, and my blades home so I could have them with me when I took her back to the basement at work. I realized I should keep everything in the house from the last time this happened. Instead, I keep everything now in the basement, locked away in a small little cabinet. I had to get rid of the ice cream truck so now I just have my little pick-up. I think it will due given the circumstances.

I knew where Jamie lived and I knew her routine. At around 8:00 she would be walking home from Karen's house. If I needed to catch her, I would need to act quickly. I got into my truck and hurriedly got over to Cedar St. I saw her walk out of Karen's house, holding her books in her left hand. She looked adorable all dolled up in a green skirt and orange poncho. I crawled up to her, rolled down my window and asked her if she needed a ride. It was a pretty chilly night given it was only October. I felt that winter was on it's way in a hurry. She said she was fine and it was only a short walk. I reassured her that she was going to catch a cold before even getting on her street. After sitting there, debating with her, she said ok. She hopped into the truck and my head began to go numb. I wanted to be able to remember something like this but I kept going in and out of consciousness. It was as if I was dreaming then waking back up.

_You did ask her how the project was going, and she said slowly but it's getting done. You kept looking at her skirt trying to see if it would ride a little higher showing her milky white legs. Ooh, that girl had something good going with her. You did go another route, and she noticed she was not on the right road. You said, you forgot something at work that you need to get quickly. She was a little testy but you re-assured her that if you didn't get it tonight and right now, that you would lose your job. She felt the sympathy card that you played and she nodded. You got to the factory gates, and slowly entered the grounds. You parked closed to the steel door and said, I'll be right back. You left the car off and walked into the door. You maneuvered quickly, running through hallways and corridors, to get to the other door which was behind the truck. You opened it and slowly crept to behind the tailgate of the car. She started to read her biology book, waiting for your return. You moved the sliding glass window, slowly to not make a sound. You presented the rag, and soaked it with chloroform, You grabbed her and placed the rag over her mouth and nose. She struggled, throwing her books onto the floorboard. She violently jerked around until her movements became slowed then, stopped. She slumped over the seat and you went to her door, grabbing her arm and carried her into the steel door, You had this huge smile across your face, as if you were waiting 50 years to claim your prize._

Well it had been over 6 years. But go on. I love how you guys tell the story.

_You got her into the basement, hot and damp. You removed her poncho and saw her white blouse with her breast almost bulging from the fabric. It was tight and pressed so close that her bra was easily shown. You took her shoes off and removed her yellow stockings. Her legs were so white! You hiked up her skirt, revealing her white panties, covering her secret spot. She smelled so ripe and good, even we were ecstatic! You put her skirt back down and went to your work bench. You've been waiting for this for so long, you were taking so much pleasure and time into it. The thing was is that you kept thinking of her as a small child. She was your oldest you've ever taken and you had to keep that mindset. You grabbed your claw and begin to move it slightly over her ivory skin. She moaned and shivered at the cool steel. You traced it down her arms, up her arms down her breast, her stomach, her legs. You played with her for what seemed forever. She then started to wake up and noticed you standing over her. Her eyes went wide and she was about to bolt up but she saw the blade, resting on her chest. You were tapping your finger in time with the second hand on the clock; smooth and effortlessly. She went still and looked right back up at you._

Let me tell this part. She was so pretty, laying there in utter fear. The God complex within me was on overdrive.

"What are you doing, Mr. Krueger?" she asked quietly, not trying to sound terrified. Too late.

"What I'm doing, Jamie is playing. I like to play you see? This is my blades. My glove. I like to have fun and play. You were so pretty when you were a child. Why did you have to grow up? Not saying that growing up made you undesirable, but your innocence is gone. Remember when we use to play, Jamie?" I moved the blade over her arms, watching her hairs stand on end.

"Yes, Freddy. I remember. We use to play with dolls and then act out."

"So you do remember. We use to have so much fun. When you stopped coming over I got very sad and very angry. I lost one of my playmates. I'm sorry I had to put that rag over your face but I need you unconcious so you could come down to see my room. I've missed you so much, Jamie. I want to play again. Will you play with me?" The kid voice I was using was starting to get her warmed up.

"What do you want to play, Freddy?" she asked. I watched her tears fall down the sides of her face; her bottom lip quivering in fear. I was getting close.

"Everything, Jamie. Everything."

**Author's Note: Due to the graphic nature of what happens after this, I will not put it into this story. I do not want my story to be removed/deleted from the site. I apologize for the other Krugerites who want to know. Let your imagination take over and create your own version of this part. Now...on with the story.**

After we played around and I cleaned off my blades, I gathered her in my arms. She was so pretty, it was almost as if she was asleep. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was slightly opened. Her hair was over my wrist and arm when I carried her, chestnut brown with small curls. I didn't want to forget this image. She was almost an angel.

_If it weren't for the cuts and huge gashes in her neck, arms and legs and covered everywhere in blood, then of course she would look like an angel._

I laid her on a metal sheet and lifted it up toward the opening of the furnace. She was a great playmate, but old times die hard. I pushed the sheet metal into the hot coals and watched her body warp, blackened, then burn into ashes. It was a great time for me because I felt better. I didn't have the pressure of making sure everything was done perfectly. I did what I did and I felt more alive and yet more centered. I love playing God! I love the sensation of taking a live, giving pleasure and knowing that I can do what the fuck I want. She even moaned and screamed my name when we played, I knew that I would always be a part of her whether it was in life or death. I will see her again and I know she will want to do what we did tonight over and over again.

_It's so much fun. You need to clean this up soon before you leave._

Oh, don't worry. I got this all under control, again. This time, there will be nothing left behind.

November 1971

I finally got around to my routine again. It's been over a month since Jamie's mom and dad reported her missing. Of course they come running in to me, asking about her dissapearance. I say nothing, that I've been going back and forth from home to work. They wanted to do an inspection of the house, but I told them no since there was no signed search warrant. I can't believe they wanted to try and screw me over again. What fucking idiots. They said they will be back with a warrant and will make sure I rot. Pfft. Whatever. They can't get me now. I've hidden everything. Nothing is in my home beside my blades but those are hidden somewhere even I'm not saying in this journal. It's only for my purpose only. I did manage to get another child lured into my grasp. Her name was Danielle and she is 5 years old. I love her smile. I keep seeing it in my dreams. Even after I cut her and burned her, I can still hear her giggling. It's so cute, as if she still wants to play even though she's dead. The cops believe that either I'm back doing what I'm doing or there's a copycat trying to get the same hype as I did with all the newspaper articles. Honestly I just go to work, work in the dark, come home and lay...in the dark. It's only a matter of time until I can finally fulfill my needs and never have to do this again. THen hopefully I'll get to see my beautiful Katherine. I miss her so much. I pray every night hoping that she's at my front door, waiting to grab me and squeeze the air in my lungs. That girl has got a grip on her though. I think she got that from me because Loretta was so clumbsy. I swear her hands were made of butter and when she would cook, that butter would warm and make her hands so slippery. Dumb woman. I'm afraid that I'm not going to spend another Christmas with her. I want to buy her gifts and send them to the orphange where she is but I don't know which one she is at. They won't give me an address. I hate CPS. All they do is take your children away and just say "oh well, you screwed up you don't get a second chance." the fuck I don't. I want her back I can't keep doing this anymore; waiting for a phone call or my door to ring. I want my child back and if it comes to that point, there will be nothing to stop me. And I mean nothing.

#17 is over and done with. Only 3 more to go and then I'll be complete again.

December 1971.

I hate Christmas.

I hate snow.

I hate people singing outside my window at 8:30 at night.

I hate the lights, the decorations; it makes me sick.

I hate the lingering happiness that looms in the air; on the street; in town

I burned my tree so I woudn't have to look at it when I go into the garage.

I burned the christmas lights and colorful bulbs.

I like to listen to them pop.

mmmm..POP!

Can't stand it.

There's nothing here.

I'm nothing.

No noise, no breathing.

No heartbeat.

This house is dead; dead like the children.

Dead like me.

I'm moving out.

I'm going to live at work.

I feel numb at work so I won't feel what I have lost.

My wife, my child, my sanity.

I would rather live in darkness than at a cosy home.

I smell; like diesel and carbon.

I taste nothing but black reminenses of dead kids, my kids.

Katherine is my child.

I miss her so.

I love her so much.

I want her back.

I'm going to get what I want, whether they like it or not.

I will make them pay for taking her away from me.

Their medicine is long over due.

I'm not wanting to wait anymore.

It's almost time.

Almost.

#18; 2 more to go.

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**i'm gonna end it for this chapter. It's coming to an end...(oh no). I will be posting the last chapter in a few weeks, as long as I have the time from working, conditioning and end of FCK. Or is it the beginning? As always please Rate and Review. Thanks to everyone. Without your support and input, this story would have ended a long time ago.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Alright, Kruegerites! This is it! The final installment of the man we knew as Fred Krueger before his fall from reality. It's been a long ride with this story and I'm so happy that it's through, lol. Thanks to everyone including Darkness Takes Over for helping me along the way to make this story a great read and for helping me out of a 6 year hiatus from writing. I haven't written anything this long forever! As always guys please leave your reviews and just to be funny. What would your final thoughts be on the last entry of the story? How would you write as the last page came up? Would you just keep a little reminder in there to anyone that reads it or just burn the thing and not think twice? Hmm...something to think about. Yeah, it's a little rough but I decided since every wants to read it and finally see the final chapter, I decided to write it. Then I'll be focusing everything on Navy-wise thinking and conditioning. Wish me luck on my new step toward a new career and a step in my life. Again, thanks to everyone who's favorited, commented, reviewed, added me as a favorite author or whatever. Without support in anything, where would we be now?**

**With...out...further...due...the final nightmare, lol. Just kidding.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own NOES, Fredd, Loretta or Katherine. All creativity belongs to the rightful parties.**

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March 1972

Well. There's really not much else to say anymore. I'm almost full on this notebook and my hand writing it pretty small. I've looked back in this notebook over and over again and it still brings back so many memories that I just want to cut out. Katherine is never coming back. I've come to terms with it, I guess. I still cry when I see her picture on the workbench, holding her teddy bear. I got so angry one night I broke the frame with my fist. With the shock that followed, I actually glued the glass back together. Now it just looks all disfigured and Katherine is still there, smiling behind that broken glass. I've done a lot in just a matter of years. I was married. I had a child. I fulfilled my darkest desires and now I feel that after this last one, I'll be able to find peace. I'm at nineteen children, my children, in this little room, in that boiler. Their skulls still sit in the back, dusted with carbon and ash. Sometimes I can hear them giggling in the other room when I try to sleep. It's my own personal lullaby. The house finally got taken over since I decided not to pay on it anymore. They sent me countless letters about back pay and what not. I just either ripped them or put them in the boiler. All of my posessions at the house were reposessed. Everything. I don't care anymore. I don't feel at all remorseful for killing those little munchkins. I feel justified. They took away my own light in this place that everyone calls 'heaven on earth'. It's more of a dark hallway, full of sharp spikes and when I'm pushed out of the way, I feel the sharp sting of the spike penetrate me. When I go to the grocery store, I steer away from people on the sidewalk. I feel if they even bump me, I'll be pushed into those spikes, I don't want to feel them. I don't want pain anymore. I've known it since I was a child. My mother inflicted on me when she refused me, saying I was not a child of God. I hate to say it but she was right. When I went to live with Underwood and had to deal with the abuse both sexually and physically, I lost my whole existence. Any light that was in me when I was a child was forced out of me with every blow, every kick. I thought that once that Underwood was out of the way, I could feel that maybe I still have a second chance. Maybe there's still a light at the end of the tunnel. What I came to realize it was a mirage of what I wanted; not what was really there. I saw light when in fact it was just a longer and darker tunnel, full of screams, laughing and jeering. That little rant that kids sung to me when I was in school still plays in my ear like a record on repeat. I can't stand it. Finally after school the singing stopped, relatively. Then I met Loretta, that sweet song bird, she kept me sane for what only seemed a waiting period before the whole thing came crashing down. The screaming; the fights; the fear that lingered in her eyes when she came close to me. I did it all. I wanted it so bad that I still made it known that I created that fear. The thoughts of being scared that populated through her mind, I fed off of it. I was addicted to fear. I am still addicted to fear. It keeps me going. It keeps my world still turning. For fear is the only way to instill the memory of what I do or what I've done. I still crave it. It's almost a tangible thing when you see that same dark doom that looms in the pupils of those children. I smelled it on their skin; I tasted it when their blood sprayed on my face and into my mouth. Then…for a brief moment in my existence, it stopped. Katherine smiled at me when I held her in the hospital. It all came clear to me that I can stop what I'm doing and become the man that Loretta wants me to be; what my mother wanted me to be. She was my angel that my own mother sent to me for me to be the protector rather than the predator.

It didn't last long. With every child I saw walking the streets, I saw their parent's eyes looking at me and singing that damn song: Son of a hundred maniacs. Son of a hundred maniacs. It played louder and louder. Not only was the damn song playing, the voices kept creeping back to me. They told me to do things, act them out and then finally they went away when there were satisfied. Now…the voices are yelling at me to continue after I've said that I will stop; no more kiddies in the furnace. They yell at me, scream, curse me saying that I'm weak. Even one of them sounds like Underwood, just toying with me so that I can get that anger out of me and put onto that child that shivers in the corner, with tears streaming down their faces. I have no choices anymore. I can't keep running away from what I've done. I need to finish this once and for all. Just one more child, then I should be on the path of vice and then be able to live a life without the constant urges burning inside. It will be done soon.

May 1972

_Ok. I've had enough. I'm taking over now. That pathetic little pip-squeak. All these words he writes on this paper in this binding, I know that there's something more that we can do to make him fulfill the upmost task. Everyone is getting to him. When he was told that Katherine was gone and never coming back, a part of him died right there. The part that he was striving for to have a so called "normal life". He's always crying, wailing to the concrete walls of this stagnant basement. I'm very close to letting the cage of animal run rapid. This time though, he will not stop, he will continue until every single child is burned and left in little ashes in that boiler. All of us want him to continue and it's a struggle to get his lazy ass to even walk the streets during the day time. Fucking little child. That's all he is. He's nothing more than a pathetic little runt that just wastes time. He's not going to anymore. That last entry was the last of any man that resides in Fred Krueger. I'll kill him myself if he doesn't take control. I'm not sitting here watching things happen anymore. I'll make him finally see the true side to everything in life. Just watch and see…._

_He'll come around, you'll see. With everything takes time. If we just keep doing what we are doing, he'll snap and finally realize._

_Patience._

_i'm tired with patience. im wanting to get going on the fucking ball. i'm tried of trying to test him, get him over the edge._

_Patience. Without it, he wouldn't be where he is today._

_he would have been a little faggot, carrying around groceries, waiting on hand and foot for that bitch_

_Don't even bring that whore's name up._

_Well it's true. We need to work faster._

_Patience. That's all you need. _

_Patience._

July 1972

No more games. No more little tidings of staying in the dark. No more crying. I'm done with it. The meaningless, petty strolls at night. I'm making this happen now. Fred Krueger is not a baby or a man anymore. He's a God and I've made it clear to many people in this town or even the world that I decide when a child deserves to die. I decide whether those assholes who screamed at me, threw rocks at me or my house if they should be punished. They all deserved to be punished. I'm strong enough now to continue, and I'm not stopping now.

No. More. Games. They all deserve to be punished.

No more wondering at night with stories of my past, remembering what I had.

All of that now is gone.

I'm not Fred anymore, I'm Freddy.

I'm the Springwood Slasher.

I take kids and hide them in my room full of steel, heat and hissing pipes.

I play with them before and after they are dead.

I burn bodies to wipe away the evidence.

I will not be caught.

I will not be stopped.

I...am...eternal.

I. am. Forever.

September 1972.

I got her. Jessica, the measly 8 year old that screamed when I came to the grocery store the other night. She called me a bad man. A monster. She has no idea what to make of me when she really sees what a monster can do. Her medicine is brewing in my head as I sit here writing and sharpening the blades. I'm watching the sparks ricocheting off of the steel and it only makes my eyes grow wider with excitement. I see her now, sitting in the corner in her blue overalls and striped shirt. Her hair is so pretty, straight, blonde and forms really well to her face. Too bad that I won't get to play with it for long. It's time to finally get her. Who knows when I'll be back to doing what I'm so good at doing. I may continue or just sit and keep my head high and say "Yes. Fred Krueger has killed 20 little piggies and it's only just the beginning." They will all pay for what they did to me as a child. The songs will end soon. The badgering in my head will stop and finally I'll be a true God with no way of stopping me. There's enough fear in the world that would only keep me sedated for a short period of time. I will create more. I will show fear. I'm living proof that monsters are real. The boogey-man is me! Ah, the wonders of fright. I am everything this kids will know as they grow up and carry on my legacy to their children. I'll find them too. I'll make them apart of my collection. I'll carry their school pictures ripped from yearbooks. I'll be their last prom date, their play buddy, their boyfriend, girlfriend, husband, wife, teacher, advisor, principal. I'm everything to these kids now. As they know that I'm around, the fear still takes over them and I'll feed until there's nothing left. I'm the ending to their pretty fairy tale. I'm not the price, I'm not the troll. I am something worse. I am darkness. I am the way to Hell. I am Hell. I've fought the Devil and he now bows before me. I have absolute power! I'm the way to nothing but the silence.

Oh, she's crying now. Ugly little shit, she is, crying and seeing the snot drip from her nose in big clear globs. She's coughing, the crying is making her tired and I see her eyes, red and puffy are starting to fall. She'll stop when the bleeding slows. Her breathing is hardly audible. She's almost there. I feel her heartbeat slowing, her breathing erratic. I smell her on my fingers, my clothes. I can't get enough.

Her cries are softer now. Crawl into the darkness, Jessica and you will know what power I do posess. Drift further and further and you will never come back. YOu will never see your mommy or daddy. Bubby or sissy. Your yapping little poodle or the playground at school. I will say you will see your friends, but they will never want to find comfort for they will be dead on the inside. They won't care what happens to them. When I call upon them they will do everything I tell them to do. I have them.

My children.

Wait! I see lights outisde the windows.

They are cars...

Doors slamming?

KRUEGER! GET OUT HERE YOU BASTARD!

The parents. They found me. This is going to be so much fun.

THey threw a gas can! it's leaking fuel.

They think they are going to have Krueger Barbeque.

They won't kill me.

Gotta go; I've got a lot to take care of.

September 1972

**Springwood Slasher dies in Fire Fight.**

**by: Joe McCarter**

The Springwood Slasher is now dead. Police were called to a explosion that occured around 11:30 Thursday night at the Steel Factory, south of Springwood. Skeletal remains were found at the scene. There were to be of a young child, possibly between the ages of six and nine. No confirmation has been made as to who the skeletal remains belong to. Police possibly believe that they remains belong to 8 year old, Jessica Stephens who went missing not only 2 days prior to the accident. Steel gloves were found at the scene, possibly belonging to none other than Fred Krueger. Fred Krueger was the main person who killed 15 children last year when police invaded his home. Evidence found of steel knives, fitted to leather gloves were found, along with pieces of flesh and blood stains in his basement. An old ice cream truck that was painted over was also found in the back alley behind Krueger's home. After finding substantial evidence against Krueger, he was let off of all charges due to a lack of a signature on the search warrant when police raided his home.

When the fires were put out, there was no sign of Krueger or any other adult skeletons in the rubble. Police are still continuing to search for Krueger as it is becoming a state-wide search for the child murderer. No leads have been found as to the capture of Krueger. There was other skeletons in the ashes that were around the steel boiler. The forensics team found other skeletal remains. Dr. James Gunther stumbed upon skulls and other bones in the rubble.

"We do not know the extint of how many remains are in the rubble. We are still continuing the investigation," Gunther stated at the scene. When contacted at his office, we did not get a reply back regarding the on-going case. The Springwood Police have not commented on the situation as it is still being investigated. There has been no leading trail for other missing children in the town including 15 year-old Jamie Sweighart who went missing 6 months prior. The investigating team is keep their mouths shut at this time since no evidence has been confirmed.

Police are requesting if anyone has any information to the capture of Fred Kruger to contact the Springwood Police at 555-2986. A reward has been posted.

This story will be updated as is progresses.

he he he he he he he he he he he he he he

OCTOber 1983

Has IT REALLY beeN THat long? AlmOST 10 YEARS.

I toLD yOU they COULDN'T KILL ME!

THEY NEVER FOUND ME. OR IN THIS CASE...DIDN'T NEED TO FIND ME.

the parent put me in the fucking back trunk of a oldsmobiLE

thoSE VOICES? THEY CAME TO ME. OFFERED ME EVERYTHING.

i want it all...

AND WITH THAT HERE I AM

NOW I'VE GOT A NEW PLAYGROUND FULL OF KIDS. those younger ones that took the chance a burning me alive and throWING ME away

I HAVE NEW CHILDREN TO CLAIM AS MINE.

This time, no ONE CAN HIDE FROM ME.

I AM IN THEIR DREAMS!

I AM THE STUFF NIGHTMARES ARE MADE OF.

i said it beFORE.

and...i'll say it again...

I.

AM..

ETERNAL...

I...

AM...

forever.

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**Well would you look at that? There you have it! The last installment- well the beginning of who we know as Freddy. It is a little short, yes but that's how I planned it. I didn't want to go into much thought since we have covered so much from the previous chapters. He's back and he's staying around for good this time. Thank you to everyone who stood by me while I wrote this whole thing. It took me well over a few months to conclude this story. Again, thanks for everyone for the comments, review, favorting...well even reading this damn story, lol. thank you, thank you, thank you! **

**This is the end...or is it?**


End file.
